The Liberation of Ian Nottingham Pure Mystery
by Nightshade8
Summary: AU/2nd Sn:Chptr 13 is ready. Ian has a one on one w/ an Incarnation and learns disturbing Truths. Sam abandons Ian for hot water. Gabe has his debut. Sara gets a letter and a visitor. What next? Please review.
1. Chapter One Stalker

Chapter One…Stalker "I prefer to describe my profession as that of a 

_'Contemporary Anthropological Interactive Observer'_

_Because it has the right amount of flair.__ Besides_

_'Stalker' is such an ugly word."_

The evening patrol had been uneventful. Sara had a late evening at the precinct and now was safely ensconced in her apartment for the night. Ian had waited outside the precinct and had followed her home. The weather was unseasonably warm, yet he wore his black coat and wool cap. He flexed his leather-gloved hands and tilted his head from side to side stretching his neck. He stationed himself on the building across the street, overlooking her apartment and remained two hours after she'd turned off the light. Using the fire escape, he peered into her chambers and verified she was indeed asleep. As he gazed into her window, he studied her sleeping form, wondering what dreams besieged her privacy. Sighing, he wished he could protect her from the nightmares that surely invaded her solitude. He had been raised to be her protector, yet she insisted she had no need of him. Ian knew there _would_ be a time when his skills and training would be necessary, and he would be there for her. Realizing this satisfied his desire to be wanted and needed. A pleased look flashed across his normally neutral face and took one more look into Sara's loft. She had turned away from him, taking her movement as a cue to leave; he soundlessly slipped down the fire escape.

He took his time returning to Irons' residence, meandering past bars and coffeehouses. The small black sports car was hidden in one of Irons' many warehouses. The estate was forty-five minutes from the city, if he did the speed limit. He slid into the car as if it were a second skin. The car was in itself a silent shadow; entering the upscale neighborhood, he kept to the darker shadows. They matched his black mood. He was still honor-bound to Irons, even in his present condition. The psychological training had ingrained an allegiance that he had yet to find a way to break. He wanted to be his own man and make his _own_ decisions regarding who was worthy of his trust and loyalty. Immo had put Irons in a deeper coma in an attempt to bring him out of the shock-induced unconsciousness. The chance of success was in Irons' favor, though once he awoke, his recuperation would be lengthy. Ian was relishing his independence, and did not look forward to resuming his place as Irons' instrument. He knew his first order would be to retrieve the Witchblade at the cost of Sara's life. A chill settled into his bones at the thought. He looked up at the complex looming before him. To him it was a monument of evil that Irons perpetuated and Ian was only a small brick in the monument. He forced himself to enter the code that would allow him access.

A slight hiss and small pop and the door snapped ajar. He tugged the door open and slipped inside; making sure the door was securely closed before heading upstairs. He passed antiques and priceless paintings that littered the halls, not noticing the beauty or the statement of wealth. Ian knew that Irons was fond of the trappings of grandeur, and indulged himself like a child in a toy store. No price was too great for Irons to pay. As Ian approached what appeared to be a steel wall, he stopped and flipped up a latched painting and put his eye to the micro-scanner. The scanner verified his retina with the one on file and the steel wall slowly retracted. Ian entered the private area, once he passed through the wall; it slid back into its original position. Soundlessly he padded to the chamber where Irons lay unconscious, punched a code into the keypad and glided inside to Irons.

The room was antiseptically white, from the walls to the high-tech equipment. Small regular beeps emanated from the mechanisms surrounding Irons' bed. The lights had been set to a diffused setting, relieving how stark and cold the room truly was. Irons' bed was centered in the room, as befitting a monarch. His breathing was deep and regular; his pallor matched his white hair, while even unconscious, and had been meticulously groomed.

Ian gazed at the man who had created him, schooled him. Flashes of beatings intermingled with respectable interactions with Irons. Master and father lay before him, helpless. He did not have to bring Irons to Immo, leaving Sara to believe she murdered his father. It was said that 'still waters run deep', the undercurrents in this stream were of loyalty and duty. Even as he watched Irons' even breathing, he could feel the bonds loosening. With luck and time, he might be his own man. Or so he hoped.

"His vitals are all stable," stated Dr. Immo as he rose from a console and met Ian halfway to Irons' bed. He had been observing the young man's emotionless face, curious if Ian had _any_ feeling towards Irons.

"There has been _no_ change?" asked Ian while his eyes studied the various monitors.

"No, nothing of significance, which is good. I think we should try and revive him in two days time." Immo said with satisfaction, crossing his arms and settling into a confident stance. He watched Ian, he'd seen Ian drift into a mild independent state, but the programming seemed to be holding. It would take very little to return him to the submissive state that Irons preferred.

Ian glanced at Immo and moved past him to be at Irons' side. Ian's impression was that Immo was first loyal to Irons, then to self-preservation. Ironically, there was really no difference. Ian did not trust the doctor, but that was his _own_ self-preservation issue. He studied Irons pale appearance. The strength and tenacity that Ian expected to see was but a memory. He was torn, to keep Irons in limbo or have him recover and reestablish his control. Perhaps, Ian thought, things would not be the same. Maybe Irons' obsession would wane or he could come to accept Sara as the True wielder of the Blade. His expression never changed as these thoughts tumbled through his head. Ian looked up and met Immo's gaze.

"If his condition doesn't change, then we will try and revive him in two days time," affirmed Ian. He nodded at Dr. Immo; "I will leave him in your care. Good night doctor." Ian turned and left as quietly as he'd entered.

Once into the hallway, Ian let out the breath he'd been holding. He decided against going into the kitchen and made his way to his room. The hall had portraits of women who had worn the Blade. Ian took no notice of them; his thoughts were on Sara's fluctuating attitudes and Irons condition. He unlocked and entered his room then relocked the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the camera, over the door, was mounted and working. One of his most memorable beatings involved the camera network. As an adolescent he rebelled by short-circuiting and painting over the lenses. He had grudgingly accepted the cameras presence knowing it recorded, even in the dark. He'd discovered the data was beamed via satellite to a security bunker, only Irons could call up and play back the tapes; he was very astute to the running of his estate and could determine if something was amiss. The only peace Ian seemed to attain was when he was "stalking" Sara. His room was Spartan compared to the rest of the residence. No pictures were on the walls. An office chair and small desk with a laptop was in the corner. His twin-sized bed complete with military corners was opposite a door leading into his bathroom. A bookcase with a myriad of volumes also served as a nightstand, on which an old clock ticked off the minutes of his life. Standard white towels hung in the bathroom; unscented soap was at the sink and in the shower with his unscented shampoo. Next to the bathroom door was his chest of drawers and closet. His sanctuary was the antithesis of Irons' splendor.

Ian pulled off his gloves, taking care to remove the heavy metallic ring. It was not truly silver; it had been cast from the metal of the Witchblade. He stared at the ring, knowing that it was linked to the Witchblade, and Sara. Carefully, he secured it in a small compartment in his top drawer. He tugged his watch cap off and set it and the gloves on the top of the dresser. Slowly, his coat slid from his shoulders, he turned grabbing it before it hit the floor, opened his closet and removed the empty hanger from it's' hook on the door. Ian draped the coat on the hanger, making sure it was straight, and buttoned the top button before replacing the hanger and coat on the hook. As he untucked his shirt, he made his way to the bed to unlace his boots. He sat down heavily, the past weeks events were amounting to an overwhelming burden. He unlaced and removed his shoes and socks, then pulled his black tee shirt and sweater over his head. Picking up the boots in one hand and his dirty clothes with the other, he stood and went to the closet. He set the boots inside, opened a built-in cabinet and placed his worn clothes down the laundry-shute. Next he removed his belt and set that on top of his gloves, emptied the contents of his pants pockets on the dresser and sent the pants to the laundry. He pulled out his second drawer and withdrew a fresh pair of black briefs and black tee shirt. Walking into the bathroom, he closed and locked the door, set his clothes on an empty shelf with a hook below. Ian bent into the shower stall and started the hot water, while the room started to get steamy; he brushed and rinsed his teeth. He tossed a towel over the bar before undoing his hair, stripping off his briefs and stepping into the hot shower.

`The hot water pulsed on his back; he tilted his head back and let the hot water course through his hair. This was _his_ time; he left the world outside the bathroom door, or so he convinced himself. He reached for the soap, faced the water and worked the soap into a slippery familiar lather. Working the soapy suds over his entire body was relaxing, turning, he washed as best he could his back and legs. Then he rotated slowly enjoying the hot water, the privacy as he rinsed off all the soap. He debated about washing his hair and decided it would be easier to comb out if he washed it now, rather than in the morning. Grasping the shampoo bottle, he squeezed a minute amount and worked it into his hair. Running his fingers through his hair confirmed that it was time to rinse. He rinsed his hair several times, making sure to get out all the shampoo. Reluctantly, he turned off the water and pulled the towel off the rod and dried himself, saving his hair for last. He would comb it out before going to bed. He dried himself while in the shower stall, wrapped the towel around his hair and stepped onto the bathmat. Once out of the shower stall, he vigorously dried his hair, and then set to combing it. The towel, he tossed over the rod to dry. He had his hair somewhat tamed before pulling on his briefs and tee shirt. Unlocking the bathroom door, he flicked off the bathroom light, stopped by the closet to drop the briefs into the laundry-chute and made his way to bed. He drew back the sheets and gratefully lowered himself into bed. A small switch on the headboard, which he installed, allowed him to turn off the lights while in bed. It was one of the few luxuries he afforded himself. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	2. Prologue

**_The Liberation of Ian Nottingham Formerly Pure Mystery)_**

****

_Author: NightShade_

_Disclaimer: I own Samsara and 'the Brothers', everthing else is probably Top Cows'._

_Please R & R_

**PROLOGUE…Prophecy**

_"Life is a series of opportunities;_

_The trick is to realize the infinite_

_Possibilities and grab them before they slip_

_Into potentially unwanted variations."_

_ "Sylvester"_

Thirteen robed men grumbled ominously among themselves. Candles flickered around the room. Debating over the prophecy revealed months before was reaching an unprecedented level. Sheaves of parchment littered a large ancient mahogany table. Wind gusted through the room, shuffling the sheets. None of the men could believe, a woman, an American at that, was the Chosen divinity. Once they accepted the prophecy; they had to decide how to find _the Woman _half a world away.

"Tonight, we travel the 'planes," ordered the Elder. "We know a White Dove, an inhospitable land, the kindness of a stranger, the Woman, will fulfill a portion of the prophecy. After we obtain the Woman, training needs to be swift and thorough. The Ancients will bestow the Power upon her if she is worthy. Tonight we will dream-walk and seek our Divine Individual. May your travels be safe and fruitful." He rose stiffly, and gestured for the others to go. The muttering quieted as the men dispersed. The light wavered, shadows danced on the wall. The Elder shuffled to the window and gazed into the night. Hope lived beyond the cloister, and some of the Brothers would venture into the unknown. He would not allow the fear of the Beyond, to divert the Cause. Many of the Brothers had dream-walked their country seeking knowledge and learned of the changes that had been occurring. Those that had gone Beyond returned from their 'travels subdued or alarmed. They would have to overcome these fears; this _Woman_ was an integral part of the Divinities' plan.

Slowly he turned and picked up a scroll and scanned the glyphs. He knew they would find Her, convincing her would be another matter. Centuries before, the Refuge had been built to protect prophets and the writings of the Oracles. Through the power of the Divinities, various Refuges had been hidden and spared from China's militaristic forces.

He had been a young man when the Divinities invested him with Power. It changed him in ways that his Brothers and the Outside would never comprehend. Unlike the woman, he had been raised to assume the position of _Elder,_ to uphold that which was Good and aid those in need to the best of his _Ability_. He had been prepared for the rush, the overwhelming energy. The Power had enhanced his natural and learned abilities, and gave him amazing gifts, such as Healing and Clairvoyance. He took these gifts and 'traveled where the Divinities pulled him and did the tasks as he was directed.

The responsibilities that lay before the woman from the States would be immense; the adjustment alone to their primitive, unassuming lifestyle would be what would fray or strengthen the thread of hope. The Master pulled the shutter closed, picked up a fat candle and made his way to his cell, habitually counting the steps leading into the courtyard. He paused, gazing again at the stars and said a silent prayer. The mere flicker of his candle lit part of the stone corridor. The candle was only a formality. He had traveled these halls his entire life. The night was brisk; soon the trees would lose their colors, and the landscape would be bleak. The monastery would be varied shades of gray. It was not his favorite time of year.

He entered his cubicle, set the candle down on a small, old worn table. A fire had been lit in a firebox to counter the chill. Heat and light escaped the firebox and gave the room a peculiar glow. It was a gentle radiance of two worlds, the mundane and the mystical, converging. Serenity crept through his old bones, warming him from the inside. Power that only he and soon the Chosen would feel flowed through his consciousness and soul. He sat on his sleeping mat, letting the power wash through and over him. It took only a few seconds and he left his mortal body to search for _Her_.

_They found the **"Chosen"** one, at the end of her first 3 years of **Concentrated**training she was **infused **with **Power **and irrevocably physically, mentally and spiritually changed. **Intense** training continued, 3 years later she was **Chosen** by her **Talismans** (also know as **Artifacts**), after 4 years of **Extreme** and **Urgent** training with and without her **Talismans**, she was sent to start her first assignment. A sixty-five year old retired Special Operations woman was returned to the United States with the stamina, extraordinary reflexes and looks of an approximately Twenty six year old slight, blonde humble young woman._


	3. Chapter Two Mystical

Chapter Two…Misttiuil ('Mystical', Gaelic)

"Philosophy, n. A path of many roads leading from nothing to nowhere."

"Ambrose Pierce" 

_"The Devils Dictionary"_

Nottingham's dreams usually involved Sara, Irons and mysteries surrounding the Witchblade.  However, tonight it seemed as though an invisible force swept him to an unusual locale.   He found himself sitting on a beach; next to him sat two brown-robed Asian men.  The men were talking to him, or so he thought, except the voice that answered was sensuous and remarkably calm.  The head, which he thought at first thought was his, turned and gazed over the ocean.  Diving toward the deep blue ocean and swooping upwards were three dragons. Two of the dragons were large, one was milk white with sapphire blue eyes, the other blacker than Irons' heart with ruby eyes, a smaller one that at first appeared to be pink, but changed colors as the sun hit its' scales darted between the two.  _This can't be real, he thought.  He felt the sand, on which he sat, felt the heat of the sun.  Something told him that this body, no person, was also sitting and observing the dragons.  Realization seeped in slowly; he was in another person's body.  He became aware of other creatures nearby, although he could not see them.  Suddenly the black dragon broke from the other two and focused on one of the individuals sitting on the beach, diving with supernatural speed, it snatched a brown-robed man and arced back over the ocean.  Instantly, the individual he was in jumped up and uttered a command and the milk white dragon glided instantly to the person, who without hesitation leapt atop the dragon and went in pursuit of the Black dragon.  He felt exhilaration instead of fear as the white dragon climbed.  The person, a woman, gave instructions to the creature that she was riding.  The white dragon caught up easily to the black, as they got closer, the woman slowly stood, balancing, then jumped, landing hard onto the black dragon.  Her hands found a handhold, reached to the tender hide beneath the scales and seized a trigger point.  The black bellowed and dropped the man who was caught easily by the white and redelivered to the beach.  Looping and diving, the black dragon did everything possible to throw the woman, instead she grasped harder and applied more pressure to its' tender hide.  She shouted out what he believed to be commands.  The black dragon took its time but finally landed on the beach.  Ian felt the jolt of the landing, but realized there was more to come.  The two men had left the beach and peeked through the brush to witness the imminent exchange.  He felt his/her body do a handspring flipping over the black dragon's head and caught the eyelid under its bony, protective ridge.  The dragon roared in pain and tried unsuccessfully to shake her grip; she/Ian was pitched back and forth like a ragdoll.  Despite the fact she was being tossed about, her commands were direct and forceful, yet this was a willful beast.  Glimpsing into the dragon's eye, he caught a reflection of the body in which he was trapped.  Definitely woman, young and delicate, how could she have the strength to face such an evil force, unarmed, he wondered.  If she had noticed him, she did not acknowledge his presence.  His pondering had to come later, the woman said something softly to the dragon and the dragon became motionless, with a trace of fear upon his features.  The woman's grip was solid and he could tell she had no intention of letting go._

            The white and then the pink dragon landed a respectful distance away; knowing their fate would be decided by the battle between the woman and black beast.  Suddenly the creature transformed into a human shape, the woman's hand was left holding a fragment of scale.  Roaring, the now seven foot man-shaped beast backhanded the woman sending her flying into a sand dune.  She/Ian was instantly on her feet, unharmed, and charged the creature.  Approaching the beast, Ian observed that the black man-creature before him had scales from his waist down its' legs ending with huge clawed feet.  It attempted to swipe at the woman who launched herself at the creature and landed on its chest; her right hand pierced its chest and clutched its heart.  Ian was stunned to have the sensation of a living creature's heart pounding in his/her hand.  She sat astride the creature.  Her left hand grasped its' throat, fastening on the points that rendered the creature helpless.    Ian couldn't believe the individual he was occupying had so efficiently defeated the beast; he was even more surprised when she spoke to the beast in English.

            "Unfortunately, you are part of a set.  Some yin-yang BS, which dictates that in order for me to accept the good and neutral dragons, I _have to accept and use you, not the other way around.  Now you have a choice, accept me as your master and follow my orders, or I send you back in pieces.  The other two would have to accompany you.  You can wait a few more centuries to regenerate and maybe Another will accept you." Her voice was low and deadly dangerous.  Ian felt her hand squeeze its heart._

            The beast's eyes rolled wildly.  It complained in another language.  It couldn't squirm.

            "English, Beast," she commanded, "Do I render you to pieces and 'stamp return to sender'?" Ian was startled by the _Power of her voice._

            "I," it gasped, "will obey."  His ruby eyes focused on the eyes from which Ian peered.  "You are the Master."

            Ian felt the woman's hand slowly release the beast's heart.  Her/his eyes never left the creature's eyes.  He could feel the truth behind the beast's words and so could the individual he inhabited.  One hand stayed on the dragon's throat and she withdrew her hand completely and laid it palm downward upon the wound.  Energy flowed through the woman's body and healed the dragon's wound.  The rush swept through Ian leaving him dizzy and invigorated.  She removed her hands from the beast and settled back, watching the dragon's surprised reaction.

            "You healed me."  It spoke in English with apparent awe.

            She pulled herself off the dragon and stood.  Pointing at the brown-robed men, "they are off limits! In other words, leave them alone, all of you."  She looked at the other two dragons, "That includes you, unless they need assistance.  Do you understand?"  All of the dragons assented.  "Go, fly and enjoy the day."

            She turned and headed to a small hut.  A brown-robed man ran up to her, "Are you hurt?" she asked.

He shook his head.  She waved him away, "Not now please," she shook her head, "something is _off.  I need to be alone."  The man bowed and left her.  Sam entered the hut and washed her hands in a reddish ceramic handmade basin, dried them on a small worn cloth, then she sat down on her futon.  The hut smelled of the sea.  Sun and wind filtered through the windows and gaps of the hut.  She closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath slowly exhaling.  Her balance was off, and it took her a moment to discover why._

            Sam settled deeply into the futon following the three silvery cords that coalesced around her center chakra.  Inwardly, she tilted her head to observe the intruder.  Ian realized that he was under scrutiny and looked around to find the origin.  He felt as though his eyes had met unusual eyes of the individual he occupied.

            "You seem to be a long way from home."  The voice he heard was soft and serene.  "Is there something you seek?"

            He could sense mild amusement from the second question.  After what he saw her do to the black dragon, he was not about to tick her off.  Ian searched for a proper response, but all he could do is mentally shrug his shoulders.

            "Were you asleep, and then found yourself here?"  There was no anger, only a sense of concern.

            "Yes, I was asleep; at least I think I was."  He replied, surprised that he could actually communicate with her.  He wondered if this was part of a dream, or was he really communicating telepathically.

            "Ah," she said.  He could almost feel her smile.  "You were dream-walking, although in your case, dream-jumping.  Yes, what we are doing is a form of telepathy".

            "I don't understand," he felt as though he should be screaming from the insanity of this meeting.  "What do you mean by dream-walking, and where is here and why am I here?"

            "Are we playing twenty questions?"  Her amusement bubbled through him, normally he would feel hostile, but he _knew she was not laughing at him.  "Very well, dream-walking is similar to daydreaming, but your mind actually moves from locale to locale.  It takes a long time to master the task.  In your case, you dream-jumped moving from your familiar territories to a distant land.  You are in me, land location part of China; I cannot be more specific.  If I were to speculate why here, you must be undergoing an unusually stressful time.  I predict your next question to be why you are in me."_

            Ian nodded solemnly, realizing she could understand him without words.

            "Well, Power calls to Power; that's why you're here."  She had come to learn that _Power had in and of itself a set of laws.  His presence may seem improper or untimely, but her station in life had changed, so must her acceptance of things metaphysical._

            Ian felt her shrug.  "What do you mean by 'Power calls to Power'?"  He felt her sigh.

            "You are a vessel of raw Power; you needed help and answers and _your Power sought another Power which had what yours lacked.  Think of it as finding the head of," she paused assessing how she was going to present the analogy he would accept and understand, his stance felt like a warriors'.  She shook her head, "Were you in the military?"_

Ian nodded her calm and accepting demeanor was contagious.  He did not feel threatened and she had piqued his curiosity.

"When there is a threat to say, National Security; the President calls upon those who know how to deal with the problems and can offer him suggestions, give him the guidance he requires to make an informed decision.  Your "Power" subconsciously brought you to me."

Ian thought about what she told him.  "How can _I be a vessel of Power?  How do you know?" he countered.  His mind began to race; curiosity was being replaced with more questions.  He closed his eyes and tried to absorb what she had told him.  She was being honest, and attempting to make this as simple as possible.  Ian thought about the Witchblade and the Lance.   If being around magical items for this long hadn't distressed him, and then this was just another day, he reasoned._

            "I don't make the rules as to who is a vessel of Power.  If you told me ten years ago, I would be one; I'd have laughed in your face.  How do I know you are a vessel of Power? Why it's written in little itty-bitty letters on your forehead, just like the warning labels on packs of cigarettes."  He realized her last statement was made in jest, she had put just the right amount of inflection in her words so that he would take it as the harmless joke that it was.  He wanted to ask about the dragons, especially the black dragon, but he bit his tongue.

            "How do I get back?"  He tried to keep the apprehension out of his voice.  Ian heard her chuckle.  It was a warm, comforting sound.

            "I know you want to ask about the dragons, or is it just _the dragon? And, I can get you back to your body safely.  I'll grant you one question about the dragons.  Ask."_

            "The black dragon is evil." He waited and felt her nod.  "Can the dragon change its' nature?' he started to trial off, "No, what I mean to ask, does that which is evil remain evil or can it grow and change?"

            "Well," if he could have seen her face, he'd see an amused and knowing smile; "You are mixing apples and oranges here".  "First, the dragon is a magical manifestation that has no choice in what he is or isn't.  You may find it difficult to believe, but evil can be twisted to do that which is good, just as good can be twisted to do evil.  The force that keeps the balance is the small dragon.  Regarding your question about something or _someone, which is evil, growing and changing, __can grow and change.  Choice and determination are the first steps toward a positive goal."  She quietly laughed, "Now I have this overwhelming urge to say, 'do you understand Grasshopper'?"_

            Ian smiled in spite of himself.  "Yes, I understand."  He felt her comforting chuckle and actually felt safe for the first time in his life.

            "Your lines are becoming weak; I must return you to your body."   She knew first timers often tried to overstay and she did not want to risk his life.  Her words barely left her lips, and he was solidly back in his body and aware of her presence.  Ian wanted to wake and talk but instead he heard her say, "Sleep and be restored."

            He didn't want her to leave and tried to fight.

            "Shush, we will have a chance to speak.  You must rest or I will have difficulty locating you."

            "You'll come back?" was all he could ask.

            "Yes, soon."  Sam helped Ian slip into a deep and restful sleep.  Once Ian was swathed in sleep, she identified and tagged his aura.  Just as she was about to leave, she detected a strong and repulsive force, which had forcible ties to the man she'd returned.  Another set of threads had been bound upon the man's being but they were delicate and held honor, loyalty and love.  She tried to follow the black lines but she could not leave the room.  _Perhaps next time, she thought, __I will determine the evil that binds you.  With a blink of an eye, she was back in her hut.  She stood and stretched thinking of the man she'd left behind.  A small assembly of Brothers would have to go with her next time to gain information about the dark Presence.  Sam smacked herself on the forehead, she'd forgotten to ask his name let alone get permission to visit him in his dreams.  She felt like the proverbial "old dog" having to learn "new tricks", and it was starting to wear on her nerves.  "I guess the next trick is astral travel," groaned Sam, as she headed out of the hut to the beach and all her creatures._

***

                The Creatures some mythical and some not were enjoying their freedom on the beach.  Her bird Artifacts chattered among the trees, except to her the "chattering" itself was each particular Creature's way of speech.  _You should see what I found, came from both her Kestrel hawk and Raven.  A bored reply came from her Owl__, unless it's something I can tear to shreds, Don't bother me!  I'm dozing.  The ingrown forest offered ample shade and diversion.  Her __Monkey was hanging then swinging from bough to bough, happy to be in it's natural form and not trapped as a tattoo upon her body.  Other Masters it had served only allowed it off their body long enough to be a brass statue.  His new Master was gracious and kind.  She had been working with all her Artifacts, to learn their natures and strengths, but more importantly their trust.  Each Artifact knew that they had __Chosen wisely.  This master had not and they __knew she would not misuse them or take them for granted which was something very rare indeed.  __Bear was rustling in the forests along with his brothers __Stag, __Fox and __Tortoise.  __Salmon and __Lapwing played in the ocean with __Horse and __Pig chasing the surf back and forth__.  Snow leopard and __Tiger paced the beach and into the undergrowth.  They were not about to leave their Master unguarded.  The large black Seeli __Dog and a Royal Chinese __Dog remained constantly by her sides; Sam had to find pieces of driftwood to toss and command the __Dogs to fetch or they would have simply remained as the __Guardians their 'nature' insisted they be.  Another artifact from the Seeli realm was that of a __Fae. It was only six inches tall but very powerful with good and also wicked spells.  Depending on __Its' mood, __It would be male and on other days, female.__  __It had never __Chosen a Master before, afraid that they would make __It abuse __Its' powers.  The __Fae's senses had recognized the compassion in this __Woman, to not serve her would be one of the most unspeakable evils, '__to do nothing.'  Every now and then she/he darted among the branches, pulling the feathers of the other Artifacts for sport.  She/he had not had this freedom for a very long time and, by the description from the __Others, Love before, and this made __It incredibly happy._

            Sam watched the dragons fly in elaborate patterns over the ocean, to her right was one of her most rare and mystical Creatures and she had absolutely no idea why or how it would be important in her life.  The _Phoenix was beautiful, the colors of orange, red and gold, with feathers that would make the peacock jealous.  It watched her with one golden eye, apparently satisfied with its decision; Sam would realize in due time what its' presence meant._

A Knife and Katana lay upon an intricately designed Persian Rug; the jewels in each weapon's handle soaked up the precious rays of sun.  She had worked with them earlier in the day, going over her katas and many defensive and offensive moves.  Sam was very comfortable handling her newly acquired weapons.

Sam was quite aware of the woven forest that wound around her chest.  Oak/Hazel, Ash, Rowan, Willow and Elder trees were intertwined with Ivy and Vine, as well as Holly.  These tattoos of Celtic legend, veritable woodland, along with what some children in the States consider a "friendship" bracelet around her waist was in fact a _binding, a harnessing of the various Celtic gods' abilities had __appeared after her Artifacts had __Chosen her.  Every moment of each day she was learning the myths and reality about and from her Artifacts._

The Persian style rug developed into an ancient roadmap.  Without exception she was discovering more about her Artifacts and possible path her life would be taking.  At first the number and types of Artifacts that Chose her was overwhelming.  Discovering the Rug gave her clues and a strange sense of magical _Power, it also gave her insight as to what each Artifact's purpose and how to harness it.  She traced the patterns on the Rug gently with her fingers, memorizing each bump and irregularity.  Sighing, she knew it would be time to return to the monastery, she summoned her relics, so that she might gather them with the proper respect onto her person._

            Between working with her Creatures, she did not like calling them Artifacts, although they were, she considered each an individual with its own special quality or qualities bound to it.  She planned on having an informal Naming ceremony as described by the Rug for each creature, instead of yelling 'Raven'; she planned, at least for him, to be called Edgar, the others would also have an appropriate name.

The Monks at the Cliff Refuge had been speechless when they discovered how many of their mystical relics would be entering the world.  Rumor traveled from the Cliff Refuge that there were other Artifacts that wanted to attend Sam.  She smiled; she was not concerned hearing about rumors in the monastery, especially about powerful Artifacts.  The Brothers of her Refuge were overprotective of her and tried to keep what minute amount of the outside world from reaching and distracting her.  She knelt on the Rug, dismissing the idea that other Artifacts would or even could reach her, and spoke the _Word that would convert her living creatures into small figurines._

Exquisite gemstones, from amber, jade, pearl and others had been carved with intricate detail, each depicting the creature's living form.  Some had been hand sanded into the proper shape while imbuing it with _Power.  The figures, together, formed an invincible army.  Sam shook her head in amazement for a couple of reasons.  The first reason was that __she had been chosen to receive the __Power; secondly she would never have believed so many Artifacts had __chosen her, which brought a question, unbidden to mind.  __What did they know that she didn't? _

            Sam pushed the question aside and began the process of picking each figure between her forefinger and thumb and watching, still amazed, as they converted into tattoos.  Each creature moved across her skin, most found a spot and did not move.  The snow leopard, tiger and monkey were exceptions, the snow leopard and tiger paced and the monkey swung from branch to branch in her Celtic wooded forest.  She saved the knife and katana for last.  The knife molded itself into a tattoo on her left outer shin, the katana she set it between her shoulder blades.  The katana also morphed into a tattoo, but unlike the others, it had weight and balanced in a way that she would be able to pull and use it in one fluid movement.  _Now if I could only do this with my Desert Eagle 44 magnum  then I'd be set to take on the world, she thought._


	4. Chapter ThreeEarth Plane

**CHAPTER THREE…**Earth Plane

"We are each of us angels with only one wing,

And we can only fly by embracing one another."

Luciano de Crescenzo

The room was utterly dark and would have been silent had it not been for the ticking of his clock. Ian was lying on his side, facing away from the door, when he opened his eyes, half expecting to see a woman beside his bed. _You'll come back?_ He heard himself ask. _Yes, soon_. She had replied, and he _knew_ she would keep her word. A dream, he debated with himself, and despite the fact that it certainly was, he could not help but believe it to be more. If something like the Witchblade can exist, then why not…how could he define what had occurred, this _meeting_? He was curious if any of Irons' tomes had references to, what had she called it, _dream-walking_. After he had made his obligatory stop to see Irons and Dr. Immo after breakfast, he would check the library for material that might explain what had occurred. A rush of excitement coursed through him, but he caught himself before sitting up abruptly and hurrying to his closet. Ian was very aware of the camera in his room, even in the dark; its night vision would have been enabled. Its constant eye was ever vigilant, and he knew the first thing Irons would do once he regained consciousness was to scan through the tapes, noticing anything questionable. He'd felt the lash too many times for things, inconsequential. Irons would have nothing to help prove that Ian had not behaved properly. Ian gritted his teeth just thinking of what his 'father' would do when he discovered that his 'son' had actually acted of his own accord, shadowing Sara. Hopefully, Ian told himself, Irons would be too preoccupied with recuperating to care. 

Ian shifted his position until he was lying on his back, reached up and rubbed the non-existent sleep from his eyes. He then rolled; facing the camera, knowing it worked just as well in the dark and covered his mouth in a yawn. Pushing the covers off, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched. Once his feet hit the floor he stood, twisting one way then the other, hearing the familiar crack as he adjusted his spine. He half turned and pulled the sheets, making his bed, perfectly, in the dark. Five-thirty, every morning he followed the same routine, except Fridays when he stripped and replaced the sheets and blanket. The bed made, he hit the floor and did his morning stretching exercises, making sure all his muscles and joints were warm and flexible. He then did one hundred push-ups, flipped onto his back and did one hundred modified sit-up/ab-crunches. From his back, he swept his legs over his head, and while maintaining his handstand position, he did another one hundred push-ups. As he was lowering himself from his last handstand push-up, with the grace of an acrobat, slowly, painstakingly, brought his legs straight down until his body was bent like a human hairpin. He unbent gracefully to a standing position, never once did his face or body show any sign of strain. Breathing in deeply and slowly exhaling, Ian completed his brief warm-up. 

The room was still dark as Ian made his way to his closet and chest of drawers. Pulling his attire from the drawers and closet was simple, a small smile slipped across his face briefly, it helped that black went with everything. He gathered his clothing, entered the bathroom for a brief, rinsing shower. Flicking the bathroom light on, he locked the door, hung his suit and placed his fresh undergarments on the shelf. He started the shower, twisted his hair into a knot, so as not to get it wet, stripped off his underwear and stepped into the tepid water. Turning slowly, pausing to grab the soap and worked it into a lather. He proceeded to scrub the sheen off his body acquired during his workout. The soap was returned to its niche. Ian rinsed, snapped off the water, snatched the towel off the rod and dried himself. Minutes later, he was dressed and his hair combed and carefully pulled back. He unlocked the bathroom door, after gathering the wet laundry and using the light switch next to the bathroom, he turned on his bedroom light. He deposited the used laundry into the closet laundry-chute. He refilled his pockets that he'd emptied the night before, making sure that nothing would jingle. He pulled on his gloves, removed his ring from the drawer and set it firmly on his finger, over the gloves. Pulling his coat off the hanger, he placed his knit cap in his coat pocket, draped it over his arm then carefully closed the closet door. As he was readying himself to face the world, he decided breakfast would give him the extra energy he needed to face Dr. Immo and the comatose Irons.

Before flicking off the lights in his room, he glanced around and made sure everything was in place. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, he unlocked his bedroom door and stepped into the hallway, pulling the door and making sure it clicked, insuring that it was indeed locked. He knew if Irons were up and around, the lock would not deter him, but he felt it gave him a small bit of control over his life, such as it was. He headed for the kitchen, trying to look as morose and angst ridden as was usual. To keep his mind off the evening encounter; he planned a substantial breakfast as he headed down the hall, oblivious to the wealth and beauty that hung from the walls and irreplaceable items in various glass cages.

**********

After placing the katana on her back, she stepped off the _Rug_ which promptly shook itself like a wet dog, then whirled into a tight roll. Once the _Rug_ had completed its shifting she stood back and extended her right forearm. In the blink of an eye, the _Rug_ had converted into a multicolored _Oroboros_, the representation of a dragon holding its tail in its mouth and settled upon her arm. Sam called out to the two monks, and asked them politely to accompany her back to the monastery. They would have attended her without her request, but she wanted to make sure they understood that she did not take them for granted. Her requests and gratefulness at first, had perplexed the brothers, but they soon came to realize that she was sincere in her appreciation for their guidance and assistance. The more they came to understand her ways; the more they understood why the Divinities had burdened her with the Power. It was true that the _Power_ was a _Gift_, but the responsibilities that were inherent could drive the Chosen Individual to the Dark side, insanity, or death. She had not let the _Power_ consume her; her self control was extraordinary for One who was not raised within the monastery with its' ingrained instruction. 

There was a small game trail that led from the beach, over the cliffs into the dense forest to the monastery. Like the brothers walking before her, she was careful to stay on the path, so as not to tread recklessly upon the life that burst forth around her. Sam heard the birds announcing the approach of the 'Walking Trees', she still had difficulty how she was able to 'translate'. As she walked, she considered her discussion with the man who had wrapped himself around her fourth chakra or the _Anahata_, the heart chakra which is the center of emotion, meditation and prayer. Recalling the conversation between the two of them, she came to realize that he had been dressed in a black tee shirt and black briefs. She smiled at the memory, recalling what her late-husband had lightheartedly once said, 'just 'cuz you're on a diet, don't mean you can't look at the menu' when she caught him looking at younger women; it had become their private joke, one she knew the monks wouldn't understand. She called out to the monks to make haste. The Master would be able to give her guidance on how to help the ethereally bound man. They reached the monastery in record time and her request to see the Master was delivered. The Master was meditating and would be at least an hour before he would grant her an audience.

Sam decided to take this time to meditate, or she referred to it 'us westerners call it a siesta'. Winding her way though the maze of corridors, she made it to her cell and flopped gratefully on the futon. A sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes against the day. Suddenly her mind was stricken by a series of visions, in fast forward, of people and places she never knew. _A dark-haired, green-eyed woman was intently reading a file; a bracelet on her arm had swirling red colors. An Asian man, whose wife and child were elsewhere. The man was at work with the green-eyed woman. The Asian woman was looking around frantically and saw her little girl in the street, attempting to retrieve her ball. The woman was shouting and a truck was bearing down on the child. _

Sam sat upright, even with her eyes open she could see the scene playing over and over, and the auras around the females were in a state of extreme flux. Knowing it was a long shot; Sam reached out and found the man she had tagged earlier. Finding him was easy, now to communicate with him was another task. Following his life thread, to the tag she'd put on him, she attempted to _thought-speak_ to him.

********

            Ian had just finished with his consultation with Immo after his hearty breakfast and was heading into the city. Parking and locking the car in the warehouse, he had just pulled on his watch cap and was entering Central Park when he _felt_ her voice. He stopped near a tree and inhaled abruptly, focusing on the voice that resonated through his bones.

_Do you know any of these people?_ Before he could answer he received a flash of images. Sara, Danny Woo and Woo's family, the intensity of the images nearly staggered him.

     Yes," he answered. He searched for words to describe his relationship to Sara and those around her and he was bluntly interrupted.

_     The little girl needs your help! You must save her. Now!_

     He shook his head, "No, my duty is to Sara."

_     Would your Sara approve of you allowing the child to die, when you could save her life_? The voice within did not wait for his answer. _ I will help you get where you need to go; this child must Not die! _Unexpectedly, _Power_ swept through him, his near super-human speed was enhanced and he found himself propelled to the area where his assistance was needed.

     Sara was going over a file with Danny when she received a vision regarding Danny's daughter, in danger.

     "Come on Danny, we've got to go." Sara grabbed her jacket; her bracelet's stone swirling angrily.

     "What's up, Pez? What's the rush? Danny snagged his jacket and ran to catch up with her.

     "Something's wrong, Danny, I can't explain. Where's your daughter's school?"

     "My daughter? Give me the keys, and you explain while I drive." He slipped quickly into the driver's seat and snapped his safety belt into place, then started the car. Sara grabbed the red light and put it on the dash and fastened her seatbelt. Red light flashing, they pulled into the busy New York traffic.

     "I just…I just had a really bad feeling she might be in trouble." Sara mumbled.

     "You're telling me we are red-lighting to my daughter's school because of a feeling? Sara!'' Danny nearly stopped the car.

     "Please Danny, trust me." Sara looked at him with her hang dog eyes.

     "Damn it, Pez," sighed Danny. He shook his head,"a feeling." Ian stopped in the alley by the school and watched the crowd. Soon he saw Mrs. Woo come out of the red brick building holding her daughter's hand. The little girl reminded Ian of the china dolls he'd seen while accompanying Irons to meetings in China. The little girl held a red ball in her free hand. Another mother was approaching the school and began a conversation with Mrs. Woo. Ian overheard the word play-date and Lee released her daughter's hand to find her planner on the bottom of her purse. The little girl, realizing she had a moment of freedom, began to bounce her ball. Ian shook his head, his invisible companion was quiet, but he could still sense her.

     "I don't see a problem," he muttered.

_     Wait for it, you will see and be there to pull the child out of harm's way_. 

     Ian shook his head; "I don't see how this will help Lady Sara."

_     Lady Sara? _Sam noted sincerity in his reply.

     He expected her to laugh and was surprised when she didn't.

_     Is she the green-eyed woman with dark hair in the vision?_

     "Yes," Ian nodded.

_     That explains…Go Now!_

     Ian saw the ball bounce and hit the edge of the step, aiming it into the street. The child ran after her ball, not noticing the white delivery van rapidly approaching. Ian ran, leapt over a car, activating its alarm and grabbed the child out of the way of the van, turning and stepped into the next lane.

     Sara and Danny were rounding the corner and saw a black cloaked figure grab a child out of the oncoming van's path and to their horror step into the lane directly in front of the path of an on coming loaded school bus that was attempting to stop. Danny slammed on the breaks. As soon as their car stopped, he and Sara burst out of the car toward the bus, which had screeched to a halt. Danny went around the far side of the bus and Sara took the side closest to her. Distantly she heard Mrs. Woo scream. Danny and Sara met in front of the bus. There was no evidence that the girl and the dark figure had ever stepped into the bus's path.

     Ian felt himself and the child he was holding swept up and for a moment time around him seemed to pause as they were lifted to an area in front of the school. The little girl seemed asleep, but he was aware that things had halted and there was only the sound of Sam's murmuring reassuring voice. _No time for questions._ He found himself standing, looking down he realized how delicate the small girl was. She started to open her eyes as he set her down. Confusion was replaced with happiness as Ian handed her the ball he had no memory of capturing. Time seemed to resume, the city noises and movements, with this simple act. Ian could not resist stroking the child's fine black hair; and he gave her a small smile as he pointed to her mother still standing on the steps.

     Sara spun around and glimpsed Nottingham smooth the girl's hair and hand her the wayward ball. She watched, dumbfounded, as Nottingham turned the girl and sent her in the direction of her mother.

     "Momma," yelled the little girl.

     Sara saw Mrs. Woo turn, she glanced back to where Nottingham had stood, but as usual he had disappeared.

     "Danny," Sara called, "She's okay."

     "How?" Then he saw his wife snatch up their daughter and hug her tight. The alarm that had over taken him ebbed, and he ran to his daughter and wife. Sara followed. _How Nottingham could have known, better yet, how he crossed three lanes of traffic without detection_, she wondered. The stone had returned to its regular red state.

     Ian stopped moving about a half mile from his encounter with the child. He tried to remember how he got out of the bus's way and back near the school.

_     Weren't you ever taught to look both ways before crossing a street_? The voice was gently chiding, but he didn't mind.

     "You saved our lives." He said quietly, leaning his head against the cool brick. "Why didn't _you_ save the girl?"

     Many reasons, but mainly your attachment to them was important. I'm somewhat attached to you, probably from your earlier visit.

     He could almost feel her smile, although, what concerned him was how weak she sounded. "Are you okay?"

_     Hey, sweeping men off their feet is my specialty, but don't let it go to your head_.

     In spite of himself, Ian smiled. "You better get some rest," he whispered, not really wanting her to go.

_     I will, especially if I have to keep dragging you around. Lady Sara is very lucky to have you, but do me a favor, don't mention me_.

     "Our secret?' He could feel her energy weakening.

     Our _secret, for now.__ I must go, beware the Evil that Binds you_. Her voice touched him deeply.

     "What evil?" Ian realized he was alone. _She said that Lady Sara is very lucky to have me_; he considered her words and came to understand that she was sincere in her observation. He turned and started heading back to the precinct; the _Power_ that had infused him was gone, yet he did not feel drained. A question kept tumbling through his head, "Is this what it is like to have a friend?" Every time he thought of _his_ mystery woman, he felt many things he could not describe. There was no longing like he had for his Lady, but this female's presence was comforting, protective and…he searched for the word…true. As he walked, he hoped she had made it safely back to her body. This thought reminded him that he was going to research Irons' library for any mention of out of body travel or now, communication. He hurried back to the estate to delve into the library. The ringing of his cell phone disturbed his quiet contemplation. Impatiently he flipped it open, and recognized the number from Immo's office.

     "Yes," said Ian curtly.

     "Mr. Irons is awake." Immo paused, "And he is asking for you."

     "I'm on my way." Ian kept the anxiety and reluctance out of his voice, and disconnected the call. He stopped walking and leaned wearily against the side of a building. All of his resources would come into play when he faced Irons; he could only hope that Irons would not see how he'd begun to think for himself, and wanted to be his own man. He forced himself to keep walking, going over any possible transgressions that Irons might discover. He wondered if Irons was the Evil that _she_ warned him about.

**********

     After Danny had assured himself and his wife that his daughter was unharmed, he turned his attention to Sara who was scanning the area for the individual that had swept his little girl out of danger.  Approaching Sara, Danny already knew what her response would be regarding Una, but he had to ask and hope she'd give him _some_ reply.

     "So, Sara," he was certain he had her interest when she focused her frustrated, yet relieved, green eyes on his.  "How'd you know about Una?"  His stance reinforced the fact that he wanted answers, arms crossed.  He watched his partner squirm; lying was not her strong suit.  He knew her well.

     "Danny, I just," Sara searched for the right way to tell him, without _really_ telling him.  "Had a really bad feeling that something was going to happen in front of her school.  Hell, call it a premonition."  She looked at him imploringly, "I had no idea what to expect."

     Which was true, she reflected.  That **had** been Nottingham, but how did he know, she mentally shook her head, why would he care about Danny's daughter?  How did he clear three lanes of traffic and then hand Una her ball as if nothing happened?

     Danny snapped his fingers in front of her.  "You okay Pez?"

     "Yeah, I'm just trying to figure out what happened."  Absentmindedly, she rubbed the bracelet, as though a genie would appear and grant her the information she sought.

     "Better head back."  Sara looked around hoping to glimpse her "stalker".  Realizing what she was doing almost made her laugh.

     She actually wanted to _talk_ to him.

**********

     Sam slowly opened her eyes and met the concerned gaze of the Master. She tried to sit up to give proper respect put he put his hand on her shoulder to keep her on her back. The burbling of the fountain outside her window was reassuring, and she relaxed back into the futon.

     "Forgive me, Master," her voice was raspy, "a child was in danger and I _had_ to help."

     The Master nodded knowingly, "I understand more than you realize. You will be leaving the Sanctuary soon." Pride mingled with sadness in his eyes. "You have other things to learn, and we will not send you into the world unprepared." He smiled. "Tonight, you will rest some, and in the early morning you will travel the 'planes with twelve Brothers who will help gain information that will assist you with your first assignment, who apparently is the young man you were going to ask me about." He was amused at her surprise. "You are _not_ the only one with _Power_, he gently scolded her. He patted her hand, and left her to her thoughts.

     She was so afraid of the Evil the man would face.  She was thankful the Brothers were on her side.

**********

     The ride made back to the station was in silence.  Danny heard the truth in his partner's words, and the confusion in her eyes matched her demeanor.  Stopped at a red light, Danny closed his eyes and the scene of his daughter in the path of a van replayed.  _If it hadn't been for the stranger_, he forced his eyes open and tried to distract his thoughts with the traffic.  The honking horns, loud music rattled the automobile and drivers shouting obscenities weren't enough to drag his mind away from what might have been.  Even with Sara's warning, his cherished daughter would have been dead.  He hadn't prayed in a long time, but he took a few seconds to thank Whoever for having _someone who cared to act selflessly.  Hastily he blinked back the tears, hoping Sara hadn't noticed, yet knowing she would understand._

     Sara pretended to look out the side window, giving Danny the space he needed.  She'd come to the same conclusion that her warning would not have been enough.    How would Nottingham greet her, she wondered?  Would he swagger, his heroics might warrant it?  Rub her nose in the fact that she was too late, didn't know how to _use the Witchblade?  She stared at the stone melded into the metal and wondered why the Blade's warning had been so _late_._

     Once they returned to the precinct, neither of them referred to the incident.  They'd been partners long enough to know each of them had to digest and deal with what had occurred their own way.

***********

     The Master shuffled away from Sam's cell, he knew she would endure circumstances that no man or woman on this earth was meant to know. He recognized her unique qualities when she first entered the monastery as a fifty-five year old woman. The Prophecy had _foretold_ her coming and she had met all the challenges, beyond what any of the Elders had even considered, especially for a _Woman_, and an _American_, at that. It was her own life experiences that formed her core; the training and the Divinities bestowal of _Power_ had irrevocably changed her. The _Power_ granted the ability to Heal, Clairvoyance and other abilities she would have to discover on her own.

     Samsara, retired from a covert governmental agency, now had the body and of a woman in her mid-twenties, with the agility of a gymnast and dancer.  Her own life experience would help her use the experiences the Divinities had seen fit to bequeath, enhanced abilities and skills and remarkable Powers. The Artifacts had recognized her worthiness and were ready to serve and share their own peculiar gifts and Powers.  A poignant smile flitted across his face, in a sense; she was the daughter he never had. He thanked the Divinities for allowing him time to know her; and prayed for her continued safety. A young noviate waited in the hall, the Master spoke briefly to him, and made sure the Brothers he had chosen would accompany Sam on her astral travels were ready. Then he made his way to his chamber for a cup of tea and to sleep.

**********

     As soon as the shift was over Sara headed downstairs to the gym.  She stopped by the locker room.  Sara changed, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and went to workout.

     Rushing through her warm-up repertoire of stretches, push-ups, ab-crunches and a few extreme stretches, she wrapped her hands and descended like a Fury upon the punching bag.  Weaving and bobbing, she smacked and pummeled her imagined adversary.  _No pain, no gain, her mindset blended with her attacks._

     Sweating and breathless, it took the sound of the large blondish janitor scooting his bucket as he mopped the floor to jolt her out of her battering mania.  She felt him stop and watch without speaking; he went back to his job of cleaning.  A sparring mirror captured his reflection and she was able to see the man's disheveled hair and his seemingly sad expression; somewhere in the back of her brain she recognized his face but couldn't recall his name.  When he noticed she was observing him, he nodded.  He moved out of the range of the mirror, but the plop-swish of his mop assured her that she was not alone.

     Wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, she decided _shower and then home.  She unwrapped her hands, as she proceeded to the locker room.  Grabbing her towel, soap and clothes she entered the shower area.  The room had recently been cleaned and smelled of chlorine and a supposedly eco-friendly disinfectant.  Hanging her clothes just outside her shower stall, she draped the towel over the curtain, placed her soap on a tiny shelf, reached in and started the water._

     While the water heated, she stripped down and gratefully stepped into the now steaming water.  Turning slowly, the hot water pelted her and she snagged the soap.  She scrubbed her skin mercilessly, as though the scented cleanser could remove the acrid taste of the day.  Her mind drifted with the showers steam.

     Around noon, Danny called home to talk to Una, just to hear her voice; Sara remembered.  Throughout the day, there had been times when she could not meet her partners' gaze.  By the end of their shift, things between them were pretty much back to normal.  He did ask her if she recognized the individual who seemed to fly in to grab Una then zip to the sidewalk. _ "Wonder if the Olympics knew about this persons speed", Danny joked._

     It wasn't Nottingham's appearance today that bothered her.  His _actions were what had her unbalanced.  For the second time that day, she wanted to speak to him._

     Rinsing off the soap and the days dregs took little time.  She was ready to go home.  Flicking off the water, she snatched the towel from the rod and dried herself vigorously.  She stepped out and dressed automatically.  She retrieved her soap, gathered her wet and sweaty items and returned to her locker for her boots and to stuff her back pack with her bagged wet clothes.  The locker door snapped closed as she was on her way to her Buell.  As she donned her helmet, she scrutinized the buildings around her.  No sign of her shadow _and __no answers._

     She took the short way home, avoiding a major crush of traffic.  Stopping at her building, she again scanned the buildings and the deep shadows.  _Still no "tail".  Once her helmet was off and cycle secured, she jogged to the door, and in one fluid movement inserted, turned the key and entered her loft._

     Turning, she clicked the extra locks into place.  Placing her helmet on a rack near the door, she peeled off the black leather jacket and hung it underneath the rack.  The dirty clothes she'd bagged were removed from her pack and tossed into her laundry basket.  She glared at the overflowing basket and made a mental note to do laundry…again.

     Flicking on the lights, the kitchen and living room were a welcome sight.  Considering her day, she headed for the fridge with her mind set on the piece of chocolate cheesecake her "shadow" had left for her a couple days earlier.  The desert was just as large as when she found it.  Today's incident was truly reason enough to truly appreciate her decadent treat.  Unwrapping the carefully sealed cake, she poured herself a glass of milk, got a fork from her silverware drawer and rested it on her plate.  Picking them up, she wandered over to the fire escape to see if he had left anything else.  Nothing.  The bare metal platform by her window was empty.  Sara tried to push aside her disappointment.

_     What did she care anyway, he was just one of Iron's killing machines_?  Her reason and heart were in conflict;_ he risked his life for someone he didn't know.  Perhaps, Irons had something to do with this, except there was nothing to gain.  It was common knowledge everything had a price.  If Una's life was saved by Irons or one of his "associates"; they would have left a calling card_, deliberated Sara.

     Suddenly she had the vision of Irons taking the Blade and running it through his throat.

     "_You made me an orphan, Sara_," echoed Ian's voice.   Nottingham's lost brown eyes accused her, his words were like the chords she heard when told that her father was dead.  The memory of _that event_ was seared into her memory.

     She glanced at the cheesecake and glass of milk, desire suddenly gone.  Sara returned them to the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of water and flopped down on her couch.  Opening the bottle, she sucked the needed moisture.  Closing her eyes, she put her feet up on her coffee table and tried not to rehash the days' events.  Her eyes kept opening and drifting to the window, until she set down her water to stand and readied herself for bed.

     _T__here's always tomorrow_, she told herself.


	5. Chapter FourAstral Plane

**_Chapter Four_**…_Astral Travel 101_

"_A Friend will help you move. A **True** Friend will help you move the Body."_

_ The 'Illuminati' ___

A very large and private library filled Ian's view. He sat at an antique mahogany desk with an open book on astral travel and his katana before him. Irons was awake and healing, yet it would be a long time before he'd be fully recuperated. He contemplated what may have brought Irons out of his coma. If he believed what the mysterious woman had said, "That _he_ was a vessel of raw Power," perhaps Irons perceived his use of power for his unplanned _journey_. The morning's events had been so swift that he was not even sure it had happened. When he had arrived back at the estate, Irons had already dispatched orders via writing pad since his vocal cords were badly bruised. He had directed his servants to set up surveillance monitors and personal computer around his bed. His eyes held no emotion as Ian slipped quietly into the room. Ian observed Irons' lack of reaction with a sense of foreboding and could only surmise the worst was yet to come. 

"I am pleased to see you awake," he paused, "Master. Dr. Immo expects that you will have a successful recovery. Is there anything I may do to serve you?" He asked this out of habit, not because he wanted to be ordered to do unspeakable acts. Ian studied his Master, committing to memory every emotional nuance and movement as well as his physical condition. When he had no sign from Irons that he was needed or wanted, he left as quietly as he came. His goal was the library to seek information on the mystifying woman. As he thumbed through the tomes, he caught himself thinking of Irons. 

The Witchblade had missed Irons' carotid artery and spine, but the wound was a traumatic laceration, his recovery would be lengthy and difficult. It would be a long time before Irons graced the public eye. Ian quietly hoped that the recuperation process would distract his Master long enough as to forget or possibly forgive and accept Sara as the true Wielder. 

Ian glanced back at the great book; he found he could not concentrate on the text, and reached out to stroke his katana, as though it was his talisman. Suddenly, he felt _something_ intrude. He glanced across the room and saw the back of a tall, lithe, blonde woman with her hair in one long braid, facing the stacks. She was dressed in a blue silk robe. He slowly stood, picking up the katana as he did his stance defensive. 

Sam provided the focal point and _Power_ for the astral journey of the monks that accompanied her. The monks scurried invisibly from the room; each had an assignment and a set time for return. They were seeking information that would be relevant to aid the man who had invaded Sam's psychic and spiritual body. This was an unusual opportunity for them to gather knowledge and see another part of the world. They would also vicariously experience life, realizing both the good and the evil from which they had been shielded. 

Sam started to turn then froze. The 'snick' of a sword being unsheathed was unmistakable. The laws of traveling on the astral plane were unclear regarding weapons. It was always possible someone had an Artifact like her knife and katana that could be used to sever the connection of her astral-self from her body. She held her breath as she focused her attention to the danger behind her. There was only one heat source. Male, hopefully the one she had tagged. He was controlling his breathing and slowly advancing towards her. This was only her fourth long distance astral excursion from the monastery. Her first with an alert person of which she had not been _formally_ introduced, the others had been old friends. 

"Excuse me," Sam cautiously raised her hands and gradually turned around to face him. "Would you please tell me where I am?"

"The library," he growled and glanced up at the security camera. He kept his breathing regular and readied his katana. 

He unsuccessfully tried to keep the surprise off his face. The woman who faced him was beautiful. Hers was a natural beauty and there was an otherworldly grace about her. Her robe had been loosely knotted, against her skin; he glimpsed a lacy chemise. Something about her was familiar; he stopped moving, shifted his grip slightly on his katana and maintained a ready stance. "How did you get in?" 

"Ah, if you think your security camera is working, it's not." She shrugged. "Electronic devices go screwy when I appear. In fact, my presence short circuits electronics for, I don't know," she gestured abstractly, "up to a shopping mall circumference."" She had learned from visiting the computer center of an associate. It had been a powerful lesson of astral projection meets the real world. 

"You appear? What do you think you are? A genie, a ghost?" A faint smile flickered over his lips. 

She sighed. "May I at least put my hands down if you're going to make fun of me?" Her eyes flicked over his aura. He was the man she sought; now if she could only persuade him that they had met before. 

His eyes hardened for a moment as he studied her. She was slender about 5'7" and seemed to be in her mid-twenties. Her attitude was serene. The katana's point flicked as he gestured. "You may, as long as you don't move." 

"Breathing and speaking okay?" She quipped as she started to lower her hands to her sides. "A genie, ghost? You've been reading too much fantasy. Besides, _you_ should know about unusual travel techniques." 

Ian's eyes narrowed, something seemed recognizable. "Explain how you got in here, and who you are." He adjusted his position, still suspicious, but clearly confused. 

"Where's here?" She countered. "I got 'the library' part. But, what city, state, or country is this library located? At least I told you that you were in China." She observed that he was dressed completely in black. The clothes did not hide the fact that he was very muscular; he even worn black gloves with a large silver ring. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a neatly trimmed beard and compelling brown eyes. Sam scanned the room for some reference, obviously implying she was unconcerned about the threat she was facing. 

"You?" Realization began to spread across his face. "China? That really happened? I was sure it was a dream." He reached behind him and picked up the sheath and automatically replaced his sword. Suddenly electrified, his manner and stance changed instantly. Ian was delighted and somewhat daunted to meet the woman who could beat a dragon. "The dragon," he hesitated, "was that _real_?" 

Sam nodded and smiled. She met his eyes which were captivating; they were definitely the ones she'd gazed into earlier.

"Then it would be fair to say that you are a genie," he grinned shyly.

           Sam rolled her eyes, "Very funny, Travelin' Man."

She noticed his aura was very unusual, unusual in a bad way. Tearing her attention from his eyes, she studied his aura. He was on a number of different medications, and she was able to discern that he was unaware they were being administered. The drugs were specially created for him. Sam was shocked that someone was capable of such manipulation. Instead of immediately answering him, she tilted her head to one side. It was like reading ingredients on a package. Human, yes, but altered genetically, she had noticed that before but hadn't registered that it was out of the ordinary. Dark glistening lines lead from his body; they looked like the ones she'd encountered when she had returned him to his chamber. He was under control of someone _bad_. Her silence and intense scrutiny made him uncomfortable.

"Reading the itty-bitsy letters again?" He tried to make it sound light-hearted, but her lilac eyes were unwavering, and her manner was solemn.

"You're healthy, but someone is controlling you, using reprehensible methods. Your aura indicates that you are under the control of another person. That individual is drugging you; he wants to keep you submissive or at least measurably under control." She pointed to a stray black strand that wrapped around his shoe. "In your boot, there is something that betrays you to him." Sam looked into his eyes, "remove your boot."

Ian looked at her skeptically, but decided to humor her. Leaning against the desk, he bent down and unlaced his boot. Tugging hard, he removed it.

"There," she gestured to what she perceived as a pulsing black spot. 

Ian scrutinized the area and to his horror, discovered a location 'bug'. It was one of Vorschlag's creations, beaming coordinates to one of the many satellites Irons had under control. ALL the times he had believed himself to be free of Irons' scrutiny. His imagined freedom was just that, imagination. He sagged against the desk. When he looked at his visitor, he discovered she was still looking at him intensely. She had not responded to his dismal find.

As she continued to study his aura, bright images suddenly flashed before her eyes, forcing her to step back and gasp. Running her right hand over her forehead then she rested it over her eyes. The Monster was going to…she tried to make sense of the images, bright lights and noises and a stabbing pain.

"He plans on hurting you. Over my dead body!" Furious, Sam started for the library doors. She was going to track down those lines and hang the creature with his own evil. 

He paled at that. "Don't!" Ian jumped in front of her blocking her path out of the library, boot in hand. "He is not to be harmed." He was torn, he knew she was right, but his programming had been going on too long and was deeply imbedded. Although, his recent taste of independence had unraveled commands and had begun to deteriorate prior instructions, Ian was not about to have Irons discover he was truly losing his control. 

Sam stopped, outraged. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she opened her eyes as she exhaled, and searched Ian's eyes. 

"Is there any way to free you? Is there something this person would be willing to exchange to free you?" The thought of somebody actually committing what was done to this man turned her stomach. She had to help him. 

"I can _never_ truly be free. I'm conditioned for duty and loyalty, to protect at all costs." As she searched his eyes, he felt her concern and realized she was feeling pain for his predicament. This was the first time someone looked at him and regarded him as a person, a man. He could tell by looking into her eyes that she did not want or expect something for her consideration. All the time he spent with Irons, everyone had an ulterior motive, and now he faced someone who looked so delicate, ready to take on the Devil himself, just so he could be free. It was nearly beyond his comprehension.

"Are you allowed friends?" Her jaw was set, attitude determined.

"No," he said flatly and looked down for a moment, then resumed watching her. Emotions flashed across her face, faster than a summer storm's passage. 

"Well you have one now." She took a deep breath. "I'll find a way out for you." It was the least she could do. She had been given another lifetime, with the support of her Brothers, she felt she _could_ take on Satan himself, and suspected she was about to do so. 

His startled brown eyes met her strangely violet eyes, "Why? Why do you care?" He had no wish for her to be harmed on his account.

"I have a feeling we are to work together; and I care because that is part of which I am. Although, I don't know when I'll be able to get back." 

"How did you get here?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.

"I just homed in on a very strong energy source that I tagged when I brought you back. Now, back to my original question, where am I and to answer your question, I'd have a very unpleasant return trip."

"Return trip?" Cocking his head, he tried, unsuccessfully, to look like the proverbial cat playing with a mouse.

"I asked first," she said maintaining a pleasant tone. 

"You have to promise _not_ to immediately disappear once I tell you." Loneliness flashed across his face and settled in his once glittering eyes. 

She doubled over as though she'd been punched in the stomach. His pain battered her chest; tears sprang from her eyes. Shame coiled around her heart. Instead of _seeing_ the man who faced her, she'd put her needs before seeing to the needs of another. His anguish, once released, brought her to her knees. 

Ian realized she was not acting and rushed to her side. He felt helpless as she struggled for breath. He reached out to her. 

Suddenly, she noticed his presence, felt his hand reaching. Instinctively, she dodged, but his hand passed through her arm, at least the image of her arm. She met his confused gaze. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to "just disappear"?" She managed to gasp, trying to smile. 

"What..." His voice trailed off, looking into her angelic face for answers. "Your arm? You? So much for acting intimidating," he trailed off.

"Well," She smiled, "You did look rather intimidating." She turned her head and gave him a calculated look. "As a matter of fact, you still look intimidating. Scary boot." 

He glanced at his kneeling position then back at her and withdrew his hand and set his boot down so he could slip his foot into it. His eyes never left her face; confusion had been replaced with wonder. "You're in New York City, New York, United States of America. Do you need more specific coordinates?" His voice was soft. 

"No." She shook her head.  His face was so close to hers, reminding her of another, a long time ago.  She caught her breath from her unexpected memory, "sorry about coming in here, uninvited. I forgot to get your permission when I returned you."   

"I'm not the person you'd have to apologize to, and trust me you don't want to meet the owner." He looked down for a long moment then timidly met her eyes. "He'd have me hunt you down so his research team could take you apart." He tried to suppress a shudder. 

"So, does this mean you won't tell him about me, or our unusual encounter?" She smiled mischievously at him. 

He answered with a smile of his own. "We can't continue to meet like this." 

"True, enough. As it is, my energy is running low. Do I have your permission to visit you in your dreams?" She could feel her image beginning to fade. 

"Is that your usual line?" There was a hard edge to his voice and his eyes flared. His anger was a well-placed blow. 

If she hadn't been on her knees, his anger would have knocked her flat. As it was, she doubled over again and wheezed. It took a few moments for her to catch her breath. She felt his anger change to surprise. Slowly, she raised her head, eyes blurry from the pain. She was growing rapidly weaker. Her astral body was defenseless against his negative emotions. 

"Not a line. Do I have your permission or not?" She whispered, trying to regain her sense of balance, surprised how the flux of his emotions affected her. 

"Yes," he stammered. "What's wrong?" The edge in his voice was quickly replaced by concern. 

"You didn't need the sword," her sultry voice still a whisper, "strong emotions cut more efficiently." Sam met and saw through his eyes a scarred, shredded and defeated soul. "I will come back to visit you. Before I go, what is your name?" 

He tried to smile, but it never reached his eyes. "Ian Nottingham and yours?" 

"Sam. I'm sorry I have to go now, but I will be back." She glanced at the security camera; "You'll have two minutes before the electronics are restored." Sam noticed all the Brothers were back; they gave her worried looks. 

Ian followed her gaze to the camera and nodded his understanding. There was a slight implosion; she and her invisible entourage vanished. He passed his hand where she had been kneeling. There was no sense of heat from her presence. 

He stood and in the blink of an eye was back at the desk, he'd replaced his boot, and mentally noting that he would have to take into account Irons' other "leash". His katana sheathed in its previous position, and he was sitting as though nothing had happened when the security camera resumed. Ian sat; eyes fixed on the book, and tried to slow his racing heart. _She said she would be back_, he thought. Then he recalled something that he was sure could not be true; she said she would be his _friend_. It was amazing how such a simple sentence changed the way he looked at the world. As he considered the incident, he realized she'd been truthful with him but never told him who, really what, she was.

**********

                The candles had nearly burned out, and the burbling of the waterfall in the garden reassured Sam that she was back in the monastery. The Brothers confirmed that she was unharmed and left her in peace. Their observations would be presented after breakfast and morning meditation. 

     The air was cool and she pulled her silken robe around her shoulders, covering her summer chemise. Sam sat up and scanned the garden for movement. She stood and padded to the open window and stared up at the stars, thinking about the enslaved man that she'd met half a world away. As she reflected on her encounter, Sam discovered that her inner balance was _different_. Something significant had occurred and she was just noticing. His initial visit, where he had wrapped around her_ heart_ charka, he had acquired a 'bit' of her _Power_. In a sense, he had tagged her with a psychic tether, binding her. That was why she had the visions regarding people she'd never met. They were important to him, thus they would be her concern as well. 

     The look in his eyes haunted her; he was so alone. His aura revealed that he cared for someone but apparently the feeling was not mutual. The Evil force was also significant to him, in a twisted way. Sam would have to take great care not to hurt Ian Nottingham. He needed a friend and a big bolster to his non-existent self esteem. She leaned her head on the cold stone and inhaled the clear night air. She realized he was to be her first assignment, and she had absolutely no clue how to extract him. Her morning session with the Master and the Brothers who had accompanied her was going to be a long one. Sam returned to the futon and tried to doze.

**********

Ian checked the time and discovered he had to attend Irons. He could only hope Immo had given him a large sedative. He did not want Irons to ruin his good mood. As he stood, he carefully closed the book. 

All of Irons' bedrooms had been outfitted with the necessary hospital equipment. Even in his current condition, he demanded on sleeping in a different room each night. Ian made his way to what he considered the "Blue Room". It was appropriate, in Irons' condition, that all the furnishings were varied shades of dark blue. The ornamentation was tasteful; silver pieces emphasized the austere chamber. Ian tapped twice on the door before entering. Irons was sitting up in bed, a stern look on his face. Monitors had been set around his bed so he could observe every part of his domain. A laptop computer was on and propped on a bed pillow. The furrowed brow told Ian that Irons had noticed when the camera went out, or had it? 

Irons held up a note-board with a question printed in large red letters,

"What happened to the monitors?" 

"The monitors?" Ian asked. He made a point of looking at each monitor screen, and then checked the wiring. As he proceeded from monitor to monitor, Irons scribbled fiercely then slapped the board for attention. 

"Not now you idiot!" was scrabbled on the board Irons practically flung at Ian. 

"I don't understand," replied Ian. He faced Irons with a questioning look. "First you ask me 'what happened to the monitors', they are all here and appear to be working; and then you tell me 'not now'. He purposefully left off 'you idiot'. 

Irons started writing again, his face flushed with fury. He cursed wordlessly as his marker ran out of ink. He grabbed another pen and finished his assertions.

"The monitors, computer and the intercom went out while you were in the library. You were in the library." He had underlined intercom and doubly underlined 'in the library'." His hand was trembling in anger. 

"Yes, I _was_ in the library until I came up here. Were you able to see me approach your room? What do you mean they 'went out'?" Ian pulled a chair close to Irons' bed and sat down. He leaned forward to watch Irons write his reply. 

"Yes, I saw you leave the library and come to my room. Earlier the monitors had static, the intercom and phone lines were dead." 

Ian glanced at the monitors, each of which showed various sections of Irons' estate. "I'll call maintenance at once. Is there anything else?" Ian perched on the edge of his seat, ready to leave. 

Flipping to a new sheet, Irons began to write. Ian waited patiently for Irons to finish. 

"Yes, call maintenance. You seem different, did something happen?" Irons handed the board to Ian with a watchful look on his face. 

Ian took the board and read Irons' question. He'd expected Irons to pull something. He wanted to grin but maintained his composure. He slightly shook his head. 

"Nothing happened, however, I am concerned about your recovery. Has Dr. Immo been in yet?" He handed the board back to Irons. 

Irons looked disappointed as he accepted the board. 

"No," he wrote. "He will be in later." 

Ian dipped his head. "I'll look in on you later." 

"Are you going for the Witchblade?" Irons wrote. 

"I'm going out, I most likely will see Sara, but I doubt the issue concerning the Witchblade will be discussed. But, first I will call maintenance." He rose, moved the chair back to its position, turned and bowed slightly to Irons. "Do you have further need of me?" 

Frustration colored Irons' face. He hurriedly wrote his response. "No," it was underlined. "See to your duties." 

"As you wish," replied Ian. He turned and walked slowly to the door; he expected Irons to demand more time. He reached the door, opened it, and turned slightly to see Irons. Irons had not written anything else. His posture told Ian, he'd been dismissed. Ian nodded at Irons and slipped out the door.

**********

            Restless, Sara turned on her television.  Flicking off most of the lights in her apartment, she settled on her couch to watch the Comedy Channel.  Some of the stand-ups' jokes warranted a chuckle, but it was mainly a mindless way to wind down.  No plots to follow or complain about, easy to turn off when she was tired and she didn't feel like she missed anything when she wanted a sandwich or chat on the phone.

She ran her hand through her hair as she stood up and approached the television to turn it off for the evening.  Silence.  She glanced out her window and wondered where Nottingham was.  For the first time she'd admit, that wherever he was, she hoped he was safe, for Una's sake.  She decided to crash for the night, making a stop by the bathroom to brush her teeth before changing.  After pulling on her oversized t-shirt, she threw herself into bed.  Unable to sleep, she stared at the ceiling.

_Ian, where the hell are you?_ Her mind shrieked. She was past the 'how would he react' when he faced her, worried he'd rub her nose in her lack of understanding of the Witchblade.  Now, she of all people was growing concerned regarding his lack of availability.  Nearly everyday, she didn't want him around.  He lurked in the shadows and spoke in cryptic sentences; it was his _"Mystique"_.  But today, she had valid questions and he was there to help, not her, but a child of her partner.  _What was that all about, she brooded?  __Too busy to answer a couple of questions? Her mind quipped sardonically to herself. _

Rolling over on her stomach, she closed her eyes.  The image of Ian gently setting Una down and handing her the ball came unbidden.  Nottingham's movements had been precise, holding Danny's daughter as though she were a piece of crystal.  His eyes, kind, never left the girl's face Sara witnessed Ian stroking Una's hair; his expression was _open and caring_.  She'd never consider an assassin, especially one of Irons', being _tender_ and _considerate_.  _He even caught her ball!_ She mumbled to herself.  Pulling an extra pillow closer, she curled into a tighter ball.  After a long time, she finally drifted to sleep.


	6. Chapter FiveShifting Realities

_Chapter Five__…Shifting Realities___

_"Just because you're not Paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you."_

            Irons punched a button changing the monitors focus to a different area of his personal realm.  It displayed Ian entering a black car and heading toward the city.  He smiled and tapped in a different code that gave him a "bird's eye view".  The satellite in geosynchronous orbit obtained the coordinates broadcast by the device implanted in the sole of Ian's boot.  A real-time digital feed was broadcast directly to Irons console.  He followed Ian's trek, delighting in having the control and omniscience provided by _his technology. After reviewing the tapes regarding Ian's activities, Irons was not pleased.  Ian had been making contact with Sara.  She rebuffed him which Irons expected to see, but Ian continued to make advances.  __What did he think he was doing, going down on one knee in the police parking lot, wondered Irons._

                He could understand Ian saving his life, but Ian's actions afterward were questionable.  Irons believed he was witnessing too much independence on Ian's part.  Following Sara, Irons knew, Ian would express concern regarding the Witchblade.  The tapes revealed it was more than reservations regarding the Witchblade, Ian's extended fire escape visits to Sara's loft were the proverbial 'last nail in the coffin'.  _The fact he was not by my bedside when I awoke, reasoned Irons, __was proof that young __Nottingham__'s priorities had become skewed.___

He had been reading Ian's body language and there was _something different.  The subservience he expected from Ian was lacking.  __He was practically cocky, almost patronizing when he inspected the monitors.  Just remembering the recent encounter made Irons fume.  __I may have been lenient before the coma, he reflected. __Ian should be brought back into line before he becomes a real delinquent.  Ian would have to be reinitiated back into his __proper place.  __After all, thought Irons, __he's only a tool and useless unless he's doing what he's ordered.  Irons sighed then summoned Immo by pressing a code into his lap-top.  Immo materialized within a few seconds of being called._

                "Yes, Mr. Irons, how may I serve you?"  Immo was grating.  He was relieved Irons was recuperating.

            "Dr. Immo," Irons wrote, "I want you to implement 'Project Phoenix'." His steely gaze bore through the doctor.  _True the doctor saved his life, there were no other options, deliberated Irons.  __Ian's instruction and fine-tuning had to be constantly enforced.___

                Immo stopped in his tracks as he read Irons' "request".  He could feel the color drain from his face.  "When?" was all he could ask?  Mentally he revisited the details of 'Project Phoenix', trying to determine if Ian had a chance of surviving the ordeal.  He glanced apprehensively at Irons who was taking his time, completing his next order.  

                "Tonight," Irons wrote.  "I want him back._  Apparently your medical cocktails have not been working, nor have you done any follow-ups regarding his conditioning.  Your reports are lacking; I realize I was your main concern, but your reports state that my condition was stable.  There were opportunities for you to maintain his 'training'.  You know, as well as I, that reinforcement is imperative. You have let him __stray."_

                The last statement Irons inscribed was like a physical blow to Immo.  He nearly staggered.   It was one thing to have to bring Ian into line, but to be charged with his rebellion.  "Mr. Irons," was all he could stammer.

                Irons ignored him as he continued writing. "I want it done _TONIGHT!" He tapped the pad, emphasizing his point.  Irons' blue eyes locked onto Immo, holding him like snake.  __Tonight, mouthed Irons, then he pointed at the door._

            Nodding, Immo backed out of the room.  Luckily for him, setting up was easy and he kept the virtual programming device close at hand.  _Irons was predictable, thought Immo, __just predict the worse.  Once he reached the hall, Immo headed for his office, he had to set up for what would seem like an office consult._

                Immo never really thought that Irons would actually _use 'Project Phoenix".  It had been a brain-child of Irons' so that he could keep the current physical body of Ian Nottingham and __merely adjust the man's loyalties and beliefs.  Immo had studied the effects on three of the former Black Dragons.  It had been successful, but the men had never had the chance to actually think for themselves, or had so specific a directive like Ian.  Ian had been raised to be the guardian of the Witchblade and by default the Wielder.  His greatest fear was that Ian's mind would shatter and violate all previous and painstaking manipulation.  Immo would lose his life and Irons would lose the best bodyguard/assassin.  He only hoped that Ian was as pliable as he appeared, then they both would have a chance for survival.  Pushing the negative thoughts aside, Immo prepared a genetically engineered sedative psychogenic drug to enhance and accelerate the reprogramming process.  Ian had been genetically and chemically altered, enlarging the R-brain, reptilian brain.  These enhancements made him aggressive and fearless, but susceptible to strobe lighting and high pitched frequencies.  Immo synchronized the light frequency, and the volume of the rhythmic noise that would incapacitate Ian long enough for him to administer the drug.  After making sure all systems were ready, he prepared 'the trap'._

                Irons watched Immo heading for his office confident that by tomorrow evening, Ian would be the capable, subservient assistant.  Smiling, Irons returned his attention to Ian's evening.  _Ian's last patrol.  Savoring Ian's restoration, Irons considered his afternoon.  __Something unusual happened midday; he could almost taste the __Power.  It was different than the Witchblade; he rolled the remembered sensation over his tongue.  Relishing the difference, like a rare wine.  __Oh yes, he thought, __Power is My Drug of Choice.  Once Ian was again under his __complete control, he would find out everything that had happened in the library.  He knew the power went out and the back-up generators refused to start.  __Call it a hunch, he mused, __Power seemed to crackle over his skin while the electronics were down and the flow seemed to end when everything returned to normal.  He turned his interest back to the digital feed.  Ian had parked the car in the warehouse and strolled leisurely among the shadows towards Sara's loft.  Knowing the boring routine, Irons picked up his laptop and proceeded to check the company reports.  He could wait, he held all the cards._

***

            Sam was awakened by her Creatures doing a tap dance on her bladder, or so she thought.  Hastily she changed into her brown robe and made her way outside to the privy.  _If only she could create an indoor bathroom, she yearned, __and if wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.  Robe on, she hurried outside, the sun's rays were just kissing the morning clouds.  The birds were announcing the day and their plans.  Sam chuckled; the fact that she could understand them still amazed her.  She hurried to the privy, and then washed her hands that a small outdoor basin.  Making her way to the kitchen, she smiled and greeted the Brothers.  Her energy was contagious; soon the entire monastery was filled with chattering monks.  Breakfast; normally a quiet time was filled with good-natured conversation.  Some of the monks were trying to learn how to tell jokes.  It was funnier to listen to the Brother's attempt to tell the joke, than the joke itself, Sam considered.  Knock-knock jokes were a definite hit and many of the monks tried creating "new" material._

"Knock-knock," boomed Brother Chuen.

"Whozz there?" squeaked Brother Xiang.  He knew he had to practice English, so he never missed an opportunity.

"Buddha," replied Chuen.

The entire room fell silent.

"Buddha…who?" asked Xiang hesitantly, looking around the room.

"Buddha you." Chuen smirked, glanced around the tables.

"Buddha you…who?"  Xiang was beginning to look nervous.

"Buddha you wash dishes so we can eat later."  Chuen pronounced, appearing proud of his joke.  To his dismay, he joke was met with groans, but it didn't stop others from trying.  The hall was alive with chatter and bad jokes when Sam stood up to leave.

 By the time Sam left the room, her side was hurting from so much laughing.

Meditation and chanting was supposed to follow the morning meal, but Sam couldn't sit still.  After telling the monks she was going for a climb, she left along the path toward her Nemesis.  She spoke the _Word and allowed her Artifacts enjoy the fresh morning walk.  Keeping to the game trail and up along a ridge through a vibrant valley, Sam reflected on her Nemesis, a sheer cliff that had a ledge approximately four stories up, with an overhang._

_When she arrived at the monastery, for what she was told "to learn the Eastern Art of Healing", suddenly turned into a 'learning challenge'.  There had not been any indication that she was here to be tested, and her first test (besides living 'simply') was to climb the cliff to the ledge without benefit of pitons, rope or an imaginary safety net.  She tried her best to talk her way out of it, but soon learned that the monks had been responsible for putting the 'born' into stubborn.  Fifty-five and climbing a cliff, make that a sheer cliff, in an oversized brown robe.  Right, and she had a bridge to sell.  **I better find the bridge, she thought.  Her first time she tried, she made it about a foot off the ground.  The next couple of times she actually got higher.  About her seventh try, she studied the cliff and noticed a slight indentation in the wall that went up at an angle.  Tying the excess material of her robe in a knot, she began the climb.  Three quarters of the way up a gust of wind buffeted her; she over-compensated and slammed into the wall.  Blood trickled down her face; the wind started to pick up and her hands were slipping.  The wind swept across her body and she felt herself starting to fall, without thinking she scrabbled up and made it to the safety of the ledge.  Shaking from strain and fear she allowed herself the luxury of collapsing under the overhang.  Sam curled up and ended up falling asleep.  The next morning she awoke cold and sore and absolutely sure she wasn't excited at the prospect of climbing back the way she came.  Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side, carefully rolled onto her stomach and slowly and deliberately sought and found handholds and footholds till she reached the ground.  Her legs could not support her weight and she gradually slid to her knees, resting her head against the wall.  After what seemed like eternity, she pulled herself into a standing position, then with purposeful steps returned to the monastery.  As she met the eyes of the Brothers, she saw their pride and felt their acceptance of her.  She had conquered what many of the monks could not, climbing the cliff.**_

Sam gazed up at her Nemesis.  Now, it was more therapeutic than a challenge.  Tying the knot in her robe, she instructed her Artifacts to stay close.  In a blink of an eye, she was on the ledge.  At the end of her first four years, she had climbed onto the ledge not realizing a storm was about to hit.  She was struck twice by lightening during the night and knocked unconscious for two days.  Regaining consciousness, fighting the burning pain and the blindness that turned out to be only temporary, Sam discovered the Divinities had invested her with _Power.  She had no difficulties getting down from the cliff.  Her body healed, dead skin flaked off as she made her way in the direction of the monastery.  That night had set her second lifetime in motion._

She took a cleansing breath, exhaled and settled into a trance; one that she hoped would help her determine her path.

Her inner clock roused her, along with the cries of her Artifacts.  The _Fae sat patiently on her knee waiting for her to open her eyes._

"So, Mac" she smiled at the tiny winged Creature, "you look like you've got something on your mind."

"Aye Lass, I do indeed."  He/she stood up and looked across the valley.  "There was powerful Evil in that man's gilded cage."

Sam nodded, "I noticed, but it's tied to him somehow and we just can't destroy it.  There is a humongous chance that it would cripple or kill him.  I won't that it happen, not on my watch."

Mac looked at her, "You should know," he paused.

"That…?" she prompted.

"The Evil knows that you, possibly we, were there.  Next time you go, there might be a trap awaitin'."

"Good point.  I'm glad you noticed."  Sam began to grin at the _Fae__ but__ stopped, "Oh no, Ian Nottingham, Mac do you think he's in danger?"_

Mac's face was somber.  "Possibly, but he _lives with that Evil.  He should know what to expect."_

"But my visit?" She countered.

"You can _dream walk and warn him tonight.  I doubt a few hours will make any difference."  Mac shrugged._

"I take it you have some ideas to combat the Evil.  Right?"

  "Aye, if you're interested."  He/she trailed off unsure if Sam would listen.

"Of course I'm interested.  I'd be a fool _Not to listen to you.  What do you think about hearing what the Brothers found out, get as many facts as possible, and then come up with some solutions?  I know once you hear what the Brothers have to say, you'll be able to come up with more plans."_

Mac nodded.  "True enough."  He/she met Sam's eyes; Mac knew the saying that the eyes were the window to the soul.  As he/she held Sam's attention, he/she knew it was true, and that _his Chosen Master had a pure soul and a kind heart.  Mac couldn't believe how lucky he/she was to have Sam and Evil would have to go through him/her to try and do Her harm._

As if reading the _Fae's thoughts, "Don't go trying to be a hero on me.  I need you in one piece."  Sam ginned and then sighed, "Let's go so we can get to work.  I foresee travel in our future," she said with her best Romanian accent.  Sam waited until Mac flitted off her knee before flipping on her stomach and making her way down the cliff.  As Sam and her entourage of Artifacts headed back, one after another made Its way onto her body.  Each one was restless for what may lay ahead._

Sam mused as she followed the trail.  There had been a feeling of urgency during her last year at the monastery and it echoed in her extensive fighting and intense meditation.  She had delved deeper into the arcane studies of the mystic arts.  Mentally and Spiritually her Artifacts faults and strengths had imbued her nature.  She was able to discern and create beneficial uses for their "faults".   Her body had become a hard vibrant muscle with reflexes faster than the Masters'.  It had taken ten years and she had become a tool of destruction with a redeeming skill of Healing, Clairvoyance and _Abilities that would constantly emerge.  Now Sam understood why she'd accelerated her lessons._

The Master and the monks that had traveled with her were waiting in the Sanctuary library.  Cheese, fruit, bread and juice were set out indicating this was going to be a long and involved session.  Sam was grateful for the snack and indulged herself before settling down to business.

Each Brother approached Sam and she took their hands in succession.  As she held their hands, she saw, felt and noted everything they did.  When she was done "reading the Brothers, she went before the Master and offered her hands.  The Master took her hands and relived each of the monk's journeys.  He stood in silence even after she released his hands.  She could tell he was overwhelmed.  Not so much by the information but by the fact that so much Evil existed in the world beyond the Refuge.  Unanimously, they decided she would return to the States.  The Master would make the necessary arrangements for her departure and re-entrance into the modern "civilized" world.  Other Brothers set to work researching the 'severing of Bonds'.  They understood the man's sanity, let alone his life was at stake.  Sam would consult her Creatures and learn what strengths and abilities they could provide to aid and protect her with this task.  

***

Ian stood on top of the building across from Sara's loft.  He leaned against the wall merging with the shadows.  His thoughts escalating from the _Woman, he thought, "No, her name is Sam," whose soul he inadvertently touched.  And then his thoughts twisted into Irons consciousness' and the fact he was literally on Irons' radar.  He corrected himself again, "No, via satellite."   All this time he had thought he was alone, such deception.  He turned his head and watched the flicker on Sara's wall.  The television was on; it was one of the few occasions where she watched a show.  The weather was mild.  He was happy to stand and observe Sara's residence; there was a possibility that she would pass by the window.  Her presence, even from a distance, brightened his mood._

Two hours later, she turned off the television and after a few moments, the lights.  He discovered on the nights she watched TV, it took her longer to fall asleep.  He waited an hour then started down the steps to her fire escape.  Halfway down the steps, his cell phone rang.  Out of habit, he checked the number; it was Dr. Immo.

"Yes Doctor, is there a problem?"  Ian's voice was low.

"I'm sorry to bother you Mr. Nottingham, but there are some irregularities concerning Mr. Irons' tests.  I wanted to confer with you before I spoke to Mr. Irons."  Immo's voice had a slight quaver to it.

Ian recognized Immo's wavering voice which usually indicated he had bad news.  _Immo is afraid of his own shadow, he thought.  "I take it you would like me to go over the test with you and find an appropriate way of telling Mr. Irons."_

"I know it's late."

Ian interrupted him before he would start to grovel.  "Will you be in your office, in about an hour?"

"Oh, yes."  The relief was evident in his tone.  "Are you sure you don't mind."

"I will be there in an hour.  I don't mind."  Ian felt like he was dealing with a damp rag, but he tried not to think too badly about the man.  Immo had stitched him up with sincere concern on many unpleasant occurrences.  He knew how unforgiving his _father was, so he could not blame Immo's reaction._

"Thank you.  I'll have everything ready so I won't take up much of your time."

"Very well," said Ian and disconnected the call.  _Just stop groveling, he thought._

Ian climbed the fire escape to Sara's apartment, making sure not to step on the squeaky rung.  Cautiously he peered into her window.  She had been restless and was tangled in the sheet, her hair cascading over the pillow.  He sank to his knees as he memorized every curve of her body.  Her face was obscured by her hair; he wanted desperately to be able to brush it off her cheek and feel its silkiness.  At least that is what he thought her hair would feel like.  Slowly he stood, held by the vision before him.  Reluctantly he made his way down the fire escape and to the car locked in the warehouse.  He released the sigh that had been building once he left Sara's window.  _A ghost-like friend is nice, he reflected, __but to have someone **real**__would be…  For the life of him he couldn't express what it would feel like; in all honesty, he couldn't imagine it.  He never had the opportunity to be close.  __If being isolated made a person invulnerable, then he must be Superman, he thought.  __Right now, I wouldn't mind being Jimmy.  He put the car into gear and sped toward the Residence, dreading Dr. Immo's not so silent pleas._

*****

Immo placed the phone back into its receiver with a satisfied smile.  Standing, he went and got the plate of Ian's favorite treat and had a glass of milk waiting in the refrigerator.  He knew playing the scene of the demoralized doctor with Ian would come in handy.  The file with the misinformation was on his desk.  The scene was set.

Immo checked on Irons earlier and was pleased to see him sleeping deeply.  The safest and surest way to meet Irons 'request' was with uninterrupted peace.  He punched in a code on his laptop; he'd gotten from Irons.  Ian was making excellent time.  Immo settled back in his cushioned office chair and went through the oppressed doctor routine.  He finished his rehearsal just as Ian was parking the car.  Shutting down the computer, verifying the syringe was in its concealed space; Immo stood, picked up the file and started pacing.  He was flipping through the file as Ian approached the slightly open office door.  Immo looked up as Ian was getting ready to knock.

"You're here."  Immo looked at his watch.  "You made excellent time come in and sit down."  Fluttering his hand at the chair, "I'm sure you had a rough night."

Ian started for the chair, and then he noticed the tray, he thought he'd caught the aroma wafting down the hall.  His freshly baked favorite, _perhaps this won't be so bad after all, he thought.  Immo was the only person that allowed him to indulge with his double chocolate chip cookies.  He slipped into the chair._

"Are the results that bad, Doctor?" asked Ian, looking directly at the forbidden delights.

Immo gave him a small smile, "Maybe not _that bad, but this is my way of thanking you for taking the time to see me.  Oh, I almost forgot the milk."  He scurried over to the refrigerator, opened and picked up the glass of milk.  "I hope you don't mind, but I had to get whole milk.  I think it tastes better with them."_

_Oh yes, thought Ian, __it does taste better with cookies.  Ian picked up a mound of warm sweet cookie dough chocked full of melting chocolate chips crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, just the way he liked them.  "Did you want one?"_

Immo looked around, noticed the door was open.  He peeked out, and then closed it.  "Yes, I would _love one."  He hesitantly approached Ian, as though he half expected him to deny him the cookie at the last minute.  He gave Ian an appreciative smile before taking a rare delicacy.  He took a bite and chewed it slowly, like Ian, enjoying the double chocolate flavor.  __There was nothing like a little sugar to help complete a distasteful but necessary task, Immo decided.___

"Here's the file, there are a few ultra sound photos.  Let me grab them."  Immo went to a cabinet across from Ian and grabbed a sleeve of films.  He took a couple out, went over and attached them to a light used for x-rays.  "Make sure not to spill your milk, let me dim the lights."  He watched Nottingham nod and set his milk on the table next to him so he wouldn't spill it on the file.  "Now these films show the damage…" He dimmed the lights and moved so he could point to the areas; Ian was looking at the films.  Ian didn't hear the muted click in Immo's lab coat.

Suddenly the room was filled with excruciating noise, and the lights flickered at an insane rate.  Ian grabbed his ears, when he looked up for Immo, the doctor had vanished.  Forcing himself out of the chair, he felt a stabbing then a burning pain in his neck.  Within seconds, he was on the floor, convulsing.

The last thing he remembered was a blue silk robe, his attempt to grab it, and a long, low yell fought its way out of his throat, "Sam" he groaned. 

Immo stayed behind Ian as the drug took affect.  He had titanium restraints ready. The instant he was sure Ian was unconscious, he moved the area rug, slid Ian on the highly polished tile and shackled him to the rings that had been set into the floor.  He put a protective collar on Ian to keep his neck straight.  He punched the button on the remote in his lab coat and the room's lights returned to normal.  Taking a small vial with eyedropper, he proceeded to "glue" Ian's eyelids open.  The virtual reality visor had a timed, tiny spray that kept the eyes moist.  Gently he set the visor over Ian's eyes.  As he waited for Ian to gain consciousness, he wondered who Sam was.

****

Pain.  Indescribable, overwhelming pain.  Sam tried to scream but no sound came.

Mac, sensing more _Power that had ever been on this earth building, dived into the base of Sam's braid and wove her hair tightly about him.  Something was about to happen and he was going to be with her, no matter what._

The Brothers watched helplessly as Sam grabbed her head and slowly sank to her knees.  The Master was attempting to reach for Sam, to distract her, before she folded onto the floor.

As her head slowly met the floor, the scream broke free of its prison.  Instead of the shriek that was expected, it was a sorrowful moan.  "Ian!"

There was an unexpected implosion, and Sam was physically gone.  

The Brothers stood in shocked silence, which grew even deeper when the Master said, "Samsara is not in our country."  He closed his eyes, and then he whispered, "I no longer sense her life force."


	7. Chapter Six Devil an the Deep Blue Sea

**_Chapter Six…__Devil and the __Deep__Blue__Sea___**

_"Time and Tide wait for no man."___

_Somerville__: "The Sweet-Scented Miser___

            Feeling cold, smooth tile under her cheek baffled Sam.  Slowly she peered through her eyelashes, it was pitch black.  She tried to remember where she was but the pain in her head was too intense.  _Hospital, she thought, __I must have fallen out of bed.  Closing her eyes, she listened intently for the usual hum of buzzers, talking orderlies and nurses.  Total silence.  The chill from the floor was beginning to seep into her bones as fear started to replace confusion.  __Where am I? No, where was I?  In a monastery, her mind churned.  __No that can't be right, I'm fifty-five and retired.  Why would I be in a monastery?  Sensations on her neck distracted her as something moved out of her hair onto her arm.  She kept her eyes closed and stayed very still._

            "Lassie!"  A tiny voice called.

            _Now I'm hallucinating, she admitted to herself._

            "Master!" The voice was louder and more urgent. 

            She inhaled and slowly opened her eyes.  "This can't be real," she said out loud.  There was a sense of something moving on her arm.  She tried to direct her attention to the weight that seemed to balance precariously on her forearm.  Colored light swirled around the small figure.  The light appeared to emanate from the miniature body but did not illuminate the darkness.

            "What or should I ask, who are you?" whispered Sam.

                "Oh no, Master.  It is not the time to jest."  The petite form responded.  "You must create light so we can determine where we are."

            "You want _me to create light.  Sure, just tell me where the flashlights are and I'll be happy to oblige."  __I'm talking to a figment of my imagination, __I must have really gone over the edge.  Sam decided.  She shook her head, a bolt of pain ran up the right side of her neck ending with an agonizing flash at the base of her skull; she gasped._

            "You are in pain?" It inquired.

                Sam wanted to give a sarcastic retort, but bit her tongue.  Whatever was on her arm sounded sincerely concerned.  "Yes, my head feels like it's going to explode.  Do you have any idea what happened?"

                "You were conferring with the Master, and then all of a sudden you seemed to experience incredible pain and started to fall to your knees.  I felt the _Power building so I entangled myself into your hair.  Next thing I know we landed here and it took you a while to awaken."  Part of the way into his explanation, he managed to sit down on her arm, legs dangling._

                "What do you mean I was 'conferring with the Master', the Master of what?" Sam asked.  She didn't want to believe what he was saying but it sounded _right._

                "The Master of the monastery, you were discussing the man in New York.  Oh, and you said the name 'Ian' before we ended up here."  He paused, "Did you really forget who I am?"  Had she been able to see his face, concern would have been replaced with a distressed expression.

            "Unfortunately, I don't remember much of anything.  It's like there's a hole in my memory."  Sam was beginning to grasp the fact the thing on her arm was real.  "What _is your name?" She hesitated, "and what are you?"_

                "Well, you've been calling me Mac.  We haven't had a proper Naming ritual, yet.  I'm a _Fae.  You have a number of Artifacts, and they haven't had a Naming, either."_

            "If I wasn't confused before, I certainly am now."  She sighed; I seem to have lost more than my way." _Asking what a Fae is, would be a rhetorical question, she decided.  __If I could just figure out what happened, I might be able to retrace my steps.  And what the heck are Artifacts?___

                "I can try to help you recall." He offered.  He hoped that she would trust him, if she didn't regain her knowledge, they'd be prisoners of the dark.  Mac really hated not being able to see; his night vision only needed a glimmer of light to work.  _This must be what an abyss is like, he mused. _

                "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," answered Sam.  "What do I have to do?" _My figment is going to get me out of this mess.  Maybe I'm just asleep, or maybe I'm in the loony-bin._

                "First, I need you to sit up," directed Mac.  He stood on her arm and proceeded to climb up and onto her shoulder.  "Where is your pain?"

                "You're practically standing on where it starts."  She tried to sit still so he wouldn't fall.

                "Good, I'm going to attempt to lessen your pain.  I will be pressing on your pressure points; it will hurt initially but it will only be for a moment.  Ready?"  He didn't wait for her reply, he pressed a tightened muscle.  The extra force came from his fluttering wings; he attacked it like a dive bomber.  He felt her flinch but not cry out.  He counted as he applied force to the knotted muscle; he stopped when he reached thirty.

                Sam released the breath she'd been holding.  There was a severe pain when he started but was gone, as soon as he reached fifteen.  Now there was only an ache.

            "That helped Mac, now how do we find my memory?"  Sam asked.  She tilted her head to one side and then the other stretching her neck muscles, taking care not to knock Mac off her shoulder.

                "I'm afraid Lass, that the process is rather harsh and unpleasant."  Even though she could not see him, Mac looked down.  He regretted that the possible remedy would damage her.  In what manner, he wasn't sure.

            Sam looked around, amazed that the darkness was so overwhelming.  "I don't think we have much choice, do you?"

                "No," Mac reluctantly agreed.  "I need you to set me on top of your head."

                Moving her hand so Mac could use it to make his way to the top of her head, he reached the middle of her head and sat.  "Anything else?" she prompted.  She fixed her attention on the engulfing darkness, instead of the odd scrambling body on her arm. 

                "Do I have permission to enter your psychic, spirit and mental realms?" Mac requested solemnly. 

            "Yes."  _That question seems so familiar, reflected Sam._

                "Close your eyes," he leaned forward and placed his hands on her head.  "Take a deep breath," he felt Sam inhale, "now release it slowly and relax into the stillness."  His body swayed a little as she complied.  He closed his eyes and spread his spirit throughout her psyche.  Each Artifact touched him as he passed through each of her chakras, directing him to her missing psychic link.

                Passing through a barrage of frightening images, Mac could understand why this section of Sam's spiritual self was disoriented.  She had a new 'binding' on her heart chakra and whoever bound her was undergoing a horrific experience.  She was unaccustomed to being bound, and this binding had not been done with her knowledge or permission.  Whoever bound her placed both of their lives in danger.  _Beginners groused Mac, __too much Power with too little knowledge.  Having found the missing piece, he was able to coax it out with the help of the other Artifacts and place it where it belonged.  He experienced a jolt and a shudder that rippled through Sam's body._

                A sharp intake of breath and Sam's consciousness returned abruptly.  She opened her eyes and looked around the room.  It was still black but she knew how to remedy that.

                "Oh my God, Ian."   Uneasiness grasped her _core tightly.  His presence reverberated through her psyche, drawing her into the dark.  She experienced his pain and betrayal.  __Hang tough, __I'm on my way, she projected into his mind.  Unsure if he was capable of understanding, she hoped on the off-chance that her soothing tone would comfort him.  __As fast as I can, she declared to herself.  Knowing she was close reassured her.  Sam was aware he might be sensitive to her emotions so she forced herself to remain calm._

            "Great job Mac!  Thanks for bringing me back." She didn't have to see, she could _feel Mac smiling broadly.  "Now, I think I better work on lighting."  Extending her hand palm up, Sam started the process of C__reating light._

                **_Tick,__ tick tock,_****Tick, tick tock****, Tick, tick tock, ****Tock, tick-tick,**** Tock,tick-tick,****  Tock, tick-tick, ****Ticka, Ticka, Ticka, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, ****Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock….The sounds of hundreds of varying types of clocks, in the background the hiss of sand running through a _very large hourglass._**

                Annoyed, Sam stopped in the middle of rearranging particles for _encouraging Luminosity, "Mac, did you happen to transport the crocodile from 'Peter Pan'?"_

                "Who is…?"  Mac was interrupted by a deep booming proclamation.

                "YOU ARE TO REFRAIN FROM…"

                "Don't tell me, ALL Incarnations are given the 'Great and Mighty Oz' voice," stated Sam.  "And could you turn down the Timex sounds, I'm trying to work here."

            "Uh-umm, YOU ARE TO…"

                 "Let me guess," Sam cut short "Oz", "this is gonna be tough with all those wristwatches, you must be Time.  Am I right?" She didn't wait for an answer, "thought so, now if you don't mind I have things to do."

            "YOU ARE…"

            "Drop the 'Mighty Oz' imitation," interjected Sam, "I find it very irritating, and you really don't want to _tick me off, pun intended."  Sam refocused on __Light, instantly the room was awash in soft illumination.  Standing in front of her was the strangest individual she'd ever met._

            The man's face was flushed with anger, which set off his Louis the 16th powered wig and frontier coon-skin hat complete with a bedraggled tail.   He wore a WW II leather bomber jacket over a frilly white lace shirt, patched blue jeans and ostrich skin cowboy boots completed his 'picks of the century' wardrobe.  Watches.  Over the bomber jackets sleeves, he had watches of every shape and size.  Every pocket boasted of at least two pocket watches.  Hanging from his belt loop was a lime green rabbit's foot and his trade-mark hour glass.  Watch-rings adorned his fingers.  He wasn't very tall, or overweight.  He was average; the only thing, besides his clothing choices, that made him be conspicuous were his timepieces. 

                "You," he watched her face then decided to continue.

Sam managed not to laugh, but she did smile.  "Nice hat."

Her statement derailed him.  He took a breath and was ready to try again.

Sam walked up to him and offered her hand, "Let me introduce myself, I'm Sam.  You must be Time."  She had run into the Incarnation of Death, literally, while on her third astral trip.  He had used the fierce booming voice to announce his identity.  Instead of being frightened, she had laughed at the sheer bizarreness of the situation.  They had a refreshing conversation before they went their separate ways.  _Dead Man Stalking, she grinned at the memory then turned her attention back to Time who seemed to be deliberating about shaking her hand.  __Tough choice._

He looked at her hand and debated for a moment about taking it.  He accepted her hand and was surprised.  She had a firm but pleasant handshake and met his sandy colored eyes without trepidation.

It was very rare that he had any interaction with the _mundane plane, at least that was what he and the most of the other Incarnations called it.  Death had warned him and the other Incarnations about her.  Warned was a strong word, when in fact, he merely announced a Divine Individual was gracing the __'planes.  He said this casually, as though discussing the change of season.  Time like the others, dismissed the concept of the Spiritual Mystic impacting their spheres of influence as nonsense._

_Yet, here she is, thought Time._

"You were saying something?" Inquired Sam, innocently.  Once her hand was released, she stepped back, "I have work to do so…"

Time rudely interrupted her.  "You MUST stop influencing time.  Take tonight for example; you have affected nearly all of New York state and three random countries."  Time's face began to redden again.  "Your _time pockets were tolerable, but tonight you have gone too far!"_

"Really, how far have I gone?" countered Sam.  "As for the _time pockets, I'm glad you're cool with that.  You know..."_

Time erupted.  All the alarms on the watches and from clocks Sam was unable to see went off; some obscure country music channel blared 'Achy Breaky Heart', while the other timepieces started to ring, buzz, cuckoo-coo and gong.  Time stomped up to Sam.  "You're interference is an outrage.  I will strip you of the _Power to command Time."_

"Before you start threatening, there are a couple things you should know."  Her tone was soft and serene.  "Will you listen?"

Her change in demeanor startled him; he said a _Word and the room became quiet, with an occasional tick.  As he studied her face, he became aware this __Woman was much more powerful than any of the Divine predecessors.  With a sinking feeling, he realized he would not be able to make good his threat.  She was too strong._

"I will listen," he muttered.  _Death didn't say she was THE One foretold by the Prophecies, he sighed._

"First, I am sorry to inconvenience you.  I have had no formal training on Time manipulation.  It just happens.  Second, something out of the ordinary is occurring tonight, since I do not have the facts, Time will remain frozen until I can remedy the problem.  You can work with me or go sit in the corner until I'm done."

Time snorted, "You have no idea what you're dealing with and that will be your downfall."

"Does that mean you're going to be quiet and sit down?" Sam gestured to a chair and turned back to glance around the room.  _I can't believe he actually snorted.  I thought that was just a saying.  She cast around the room seeking Ian's psychic signature._

"The catastrophes that your 'lack of training', as you say, will generate will be insurmountable."  He used his most ominous tone.  _She'll succumb to fear, Divine or not, he gloated._

"I'm sure you can handle any problems.  My friend is in trouble and I'm going to find him.  You can stay here and brood; I'll even leave the 'light' on for you."  Her tone was still cool, but there was a barb of sarcasm.  She allowed herself to be drawn to Ian's life force and the 'tag' she had placed earlier.

Time digested her remarks, not really noticing the sarcasm.  It was true he would be able to correct _any mishaps that occurred during this aberration in time.  He resigned himself to the fact that she would not be intimidated and looked for a place to sit, till she was done._

                Light proceeded and surrounded her as she walked along an austere hallway.  A doorway ahead had oily tentacles going into the room.  It was apparent the source was located down the hall and in a nearby room.  Sam approached the entrance, behind which Ian's life force flickered.  Being careful not to touch the menacing lines, she opened the door.  To her horror, she saw Ian shackled to the floor wearing a restraining collar and a visor that looked as though it had been invented in Frankenstein's lab.  Next to him, syringe in hand stood a rat-faced man in a lab coat.  He practically had no aura, instead he looked like a mummy wrapped head to toe in greasy black ropes.  Sam cursed under her breath, calling _The Threefold Law upon him.  Its use was mainly for witches or magicians, but also worked for anyone.  It was the karmic principle of Celtic paganism which stated that the energy released by the sender, either positive or negative, will return to the sender three times over.  Judging by the wicked cords encasing him, the malevolence had percolated his very being.  __His life was going to become very interesting, w__hich was a Chinese curse. 'May You Live in Interesting Times.'  Sam smiled humorlessly, and then turned her attention to Ian._

                During this early morning's event, the black controlling cords had become dangerously frayed.  If they were severed with no back-up support, he would die.  It would be a slow, painful and degrading way to expire.  Her heart sank at the thought of losing him.  She knelt down beside him and gently removed the visor.  Seeing his eyes glued open shocked and sickened her.  Placing her hand on one of his eyes and then the other, she was able to undo the damage Immo had done.  A minute amount of spittle was dribbling out of his lips.  His face was pale and the right side of his face twitched.   His aura showed that he had been given a massive amount of drugs.  It was possible he had received the thoughts she had projected earlier; the drugs he endured were to make him more pliable and receptive.

After removing the collar, she placed her hands on either side of his throat.  Concentrating on the make-up of his body, Sam sought out and neutralized the drugs, including the ones he had been administered without his knowledge.  Mentally she nudged the part of the brain to produce the chemicals needed to keep his system 'clean'.  Once she was sure the drugs were out of his system, she verified his mental, physical and spiritual health.  His natural coloring returned and the twitch had disappeared.  Using the edge of her sleeve, she gently dabbed around his mouth.  He would need attention, but not the kind that could be found in a hospital.  In order for him to have a chance of having a relatively healthy life, she would have to free him from the _Controller.  She sat back on her heels and did another read of his aura confirming his heart rate, breath and reactions were back to normal._

            Sam leaned over and tapped the cuffs which sprang open in her hands.  "You're awful quiet Mac; cat got your tongue?" she chided.  

                "Oh Lassie, you don't go mentioning cats," he piped.  "They be the bane of the Little People.  The Lad's gonna be alright?" There was a hint of unease in his attitude.

                "Yes Mac, I have a little more to do, and he'll be fine.  So, you're the reason Tiger and Snow are chasing across my chest at 3 in the morning."

                There was a long silence. "Yes." He muttered.  "Please don't be angry."

                "Hmm, angry? No I save that for someone special." The last shackle clicked open.  "Mac, I want you to stay with him.  He should be out till I come back and bring him into this time zone."  She held out her hand to jump on and then she set him onto Ian's chest.  "No River Dancing!" She stated in a mock threatening tone.

                "Aye Master," he looked up at her, "Will you be leaving on the Light?"  Mac appraised the second human he'd been charged with protecting.  His Master _trusted him, he would not disappoint her._

                "Sure.  Do you smell something?"  She took a quick look around the room.  "Cookies!"  _It's been years, she realized__ real home-made cookies.  Sam could almost hear the cookies call her name; she took a step toward them before reminding herself the task she faced.  "Don't touch them or I __will have your fuzzy little head! Got it?"  She hesitated, "They may be drugged, and it would have to be something strong to take Ian out of the game._

                Mac put on his most innocent face.  "Of course I do.  I'll sit right here and make sure that no one else takes them."  A dark expression crossed his face when she mentioned the cookies might be a trap.  _Only a low-life would lace cookies with drugs, he snapped mentally.___

                She eyed him suspiciously, sighed and went out the door following the cords.  There was a corridor that intersected the hall she was traveling that seemed to lead to a more elaborate area.  Several doors were open revealing bedrooms with hospital equipment.  _Curious, she wondered, __who is the person behind this curtain.  Sam had been able to distinguish Ian's slimy tethers from those of the rat-faced man.  The bindings lead to a locked door.  She __saw the mechanisms of the lock and rearranged them so the catch was disengaged._

Slowly she pushed open the door, revealing a white-haired man asleep in bed.  His psychic glow was more of a dying ember.  His obsession swirled about him like a frenzied Tasmanian devil made of tar.  She could almost smell the sulfur that imbued his body.  Sam stepped into the room quickly, grabbing the strands that bound Ian.  Tying all three together, she broke the bond of him to Ian, and created a hangman's noose with the extra lengths of psychic rope.  She placed the noose around his head which would make him think he was still in control of Ian.  The Controller's high tech equipment would still be able to track him but mentally he would be unable to determine what orders he actually issued.  His arrogance and overconfidence would blind him to the truth.  Just as she picked up another line to inspect it, a loud buzzing like swarms of flies filled the room.

_"HE IS NOT YOURS…"_

"The voice is not original, and neither are the lines for that matter."  She interrupted.  Her stomach had lodged itself in her throat, but she was not about to panic.  Tonight seemed to be All Incarnation night.  _Why couldn't they wait for Halloween? Slowly she turned around and stood face to face with Evil.  Keeping her face neutral, she studied him, forgetting about the strand she still held._

"I WOULD…"

Exasperation overcame any fear she was experiencing.  "Kill the overbearing pompous voice!"  She absent mindedly twisted the thread in frustration.

"Stop!"  The tone was sinister but worried.  The look on the disgustingly green face suggested a breeding ground for maggots.  The suit Evil wore was tailored to reveal his impeccable muscles.  He was clean shaven with slicked back shoulder length hair.  From his suit to his exquisite loafers, he was a dashing figure, but his soulless, hungry eyes to his disintegrating face were a grisly sight.  He was pointing a well manicured hand at Sam.  His aura resembled a cesspool, eddies of blood swirled among the gangrene rainbow, fecal brown and decomposing human, road-kill mash.

She looked at the strand in her hand, then at him and back to the man in the bed.  "Oh, I should have guessed he was one of yours."

"Let go of the binding."  _He couldn't believe anyone; especially a woman would trifle with him.  He could feel the warmth and love radiating from her.  It was all he could do to remain in the room.  Love and self-confidence, not the kind of confidence that brings him followers._

Sam glanced at the thread and then gave it another twist.  The thread started to glow with white light.  The cleansing light crept up both sides of the thread.

"Nooo!" A mixture of a plea and whine escaped Evil's throat.  "Stop, what ever you want, no strings, literally no strings attached."  Evil's eyes were the size of basketballs, and about that color.

"No strings or obligations?  If you renege or twist what I ask, I know how to find you.  And…"  Sam watched him squirm.  She knew very well Evil would try and subvert her geas, but she'd been around a long time and was quite aware of Evil's grand scheme.  Getting Evil to back off for even a short time would be a welcome respite.  Besides, she was practicing twisting manipulation of evil to do her bidding, kind of like 'twisting evil into a pretzel and pretzels were always good.'   W_icked is not necessarily a bad thing.  She met Evil's eyes with resolution, and gave him a chilling smile._

"And?" he questioned.  Fear was very evident in his stance.

"Now, I'll leave that to your imagination.  One thing which is true and you can verify is that _I Never Bluff!'"  She jerked on the line she was holding to emphasize._

He yelped in surprise. "Okay, I understand. What do you want?"

Sam gestured to the man in the bed, "I want you to have him stop abusing and controlling the man I just released, Ian Nottingham.  He is to believe that everything is going as it should and Ian is doing a wonderful job."

Evil nodded quickly, "I understand."

"Those people outside of this structure that Ian is concerned about are also to be protected.  Open your mind to receive their images."  Sam could tell he dropped his shield and was waiting; it took only a moment for her to flash the images she knew about.  "You or your minions mess with them, we are going to have a little 'come to Jesus meeting'."  She knew Evil's weaknesses and she could exploit them and make his existence incredibly unbearable.

Fear fled momentarily, "There's no reason to use foul language."  He remembered she was still holding the strand and the glow was getting closer.  _How can this be happening? He wanted to scream.  Recognition started to seep into his memory.  The Divine One.  The thread she was holding was a major link from Evil to Irons.  The pure and goodness that she was instilling in the thread would cause a reaction similar to placing a very hot glass pot into a sink of ice-water, except this crack had significant indications to the continuation of Irons and Evil._

Sam watched all the green drain from Evil's face.  He comprehended the phenomenal disaster he would have to confront.  She noticed he had begun to tremble.  "Problem Evil?" she drawled.  "How would you like to walk on the Bright side?"

"No, please.  Let me go, keep him if you want."  He gestured at the figure on the bed.

"Normally, I'd take you up on your offer, but that guy might be next in line for your job."

"I'll do what you ask, but your friend's friend has an Artifact that puts her in harms way, she's a cop."  He shrugged, "I can't mess with her Destiny."

"You don't have to heap more on her.  What the Ancients have planned for her should be enough.  You and your minions leave her alone!  Do you understand and accept?"  She waited for his affirmation.  "No helping Sleepy there."  She gestured at the bed.  "Are you going to honor our agreement?"

Evil gasped when he saw how close the thread's glimmering pureness was to making contact with his aura.  "Yes, no harm, no evil minions, Irons" Evil gestured to the man in the bed, "will think everything will be going as planned."

Satisfied, Sam dropped the thread.  She knew that Evil would find a way to twist her demands, but she would be ready.  Flicking her hand, she made the motion of dismissing Evil.  She could feel his anger and bubbling hate.  She fixed him with a languid stare.  "If you have a problem, bring it on now.  I'm sure we can kiss and make up.  I find group hugs to be warm and a satisfying way of dealing with conflicts.  Come here," she stepped toward him, "I can tell you need a hug."  Evil, thoroughly disgusted melted into a foul toxic puddle and oozed from the room.

One plan stopped and another set in motion she got up and was hurrying to Ian and Time when she paused.  Turning back…she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down and whispered into Irons' ear.  Before she stood, she brushed her fingers across his brow and muttered a word.  Rising, she glanced around the room and headed back to Ian.  She stopped at the door and gazed at the agitated aura around Irons, a wicked smile settled into her eyes and drifted to her lips.  _There's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight, she thought._

Mac had been sitting on Ian's chest and the smell of the home-made treats was overpowering.  Something was on the man's chest.  Mac carefully walked to a good sized chunk of chocolate.  Crumbs!  Mac almost danced with happiness, but caught himself in time, sobered by Sam's warning.  Instead, he sat where most of the crumbs were and began "dusting off" the remains.  _Delicious! He decided._

Walking down the hall, she mulled over her encounter with Evil.  Sam knew he would wait until he thought her guard was down before trying anything.  Each Incarnation had a weakness; she would have to find evil's weakness very soon.  Her thoughts turned to Ian, once she roused him; first she had to give him temporary bindings, like training wheels, till he was complete.  Second she would tell him how he would need to act and how to use the 'magic phrase' that should keep Irons off his back.  Third and most challenging, she would have to give him lessons so he could use his _Power and not be used by it._

Sam walked into the office where Ian was lying on the ground.  Mac was too engrossed in cookie crumbs to notice her.

"Mac!" she snapped.

Mac jumped in surprise, nearly falling off Ian.  "I was cleaning him, really."

"Right, and I'm the Queen of Everything." She replied.  She sat next to Ian on the floor.

"You're a Queen?  That's wonderful.  When did that happen?"  Mac enthused.

Sam closed her eyes.  _Give me strength.  "Mac, would you be interested in buying a bridge?"  She bit her tongue._

"Well, if the price is right and it's in good condition.  Yes.  I would."  Mac grinned; shall we complete the deal after this?"

"We need to talk later Mac."  She kept her voice level and calm.  Sam couldn't afford to start laughing now.  "So, how's the patient?" She gestured at Ian.

"Doing very well.  Are you going to wake him now?" He was excited.  While sitting on his chest, he'd come to the conclusion that if Ian thought highly of his Master, and she cared about him then he must be okay.

"Assume the position."  Sam placed her hand at a level to jump on and he was then deposited on her shoulder.  She adjusted her position, and then she remembered Time.  He was dozing in a chair.  Deciding it would be better if Time stayed asleep, she used her softest voice and touch to wake Ian.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty."  She stroked his temples, willing him to waken.  "Ian, we are on a tight schedule here.  Wake up."  

He took a couple of jerky breaths and slowly opened his eyes.  _She's here.  He felt her caress his temple, the sensation was so gentle.  __She's really next to me, touching me.  Ian tentatively took one of her hands and held it so he could study it.___

"Ian, I have to repair your bindings or, let's just say you won't be around long." Sam said gently.

"No," Ian said flatly.  "I will not be bound to that man again." He caught her gaze, "I can feel the difference, and I won't do it."

"Ian, I didn't just unbind you to that monster, just to rebind you to him.  You have been bound psychically so long that to sever the ties abruptly would not only kill you, but you would hurt others, innocents, as well."

"So what are my choices, Immo? You?" At least I will die a free man.

"It's only an illusion of being free.  You have a long and exciting life before you.  Don't throw it away."  Sam pleaded.  In her distress, she stopped stroking his temple.  She was caught off guard by his rejection.

Ian had made no move to stand or pull away from her stroking his temple.  He couldn't believe how soothing, how real her touch was.  He searched her face, "What do you recommend," he didn't want this moment to end.  "Who do you propose I 'bind' to?"

"For a proper binding, both parties have to agree."  Sam focused on the floor; it was easier to deal with him when she was on the astral plane or in China.  _Her turf.  She felt lost and very unsure.  Right now, she'd love being back in the monastery.  She understood now, why there was going to be a reinitiation back into the 'civilized' world.  Dealing with mythological creatures, Incarnations and psychic mumbo jumbo had become the norm.  To interact with the 21st century world and the people that inhabit it __was more difficult, especially after being away so long and to return irrefutably altered.  __Have I become a monster without realizing it, she wondered.  __Of course, he wouldn't want to be bound to a monster.  What was I thinking?_

Ian noticed her silence and shifted to see her better.  He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw her eyes starting to tear.  Realization slowly crept into his consciousness, this beautiful woman could deal with dragons, and he had a feeling something completely out of the ordinary happened this evening, and she had dealt with that.  She was here for him.  A friend, an extraordinary one had come into his life, and he was about to toss it away.

Sam pulled her hand out of his grasp.  She started to stand.  "I can get one of the Brothers from the monastery to bind; you won't need to worry about someone controlling you."  She stood, turned and went to deal with Immo, removing the syringe from his hand.

"There are some important things you need to know."  She bent down to remove the shackles from the floor.  Her eyes never met his.

Ian sat up and then got to his feet.  He kept trying to catch her attention with his eyes.  Something told him she'd been hurt and if he didn't connect with her now, he might never see her again.  She had basically freed him, so her concern for his well being was no longer an issue.  Ian could tell whatever had transpired indicated he no longer wanted or needed her presence as a friend; at least that was what she'd believed.

"The man in bed, who held the binding on you, will still think he has control.  You will have to act subservient.  If he catches you doing something, I've implanted a phrase command, you say it, then tell him that he ordered you to do whatever."  She shrugged.  Sam barely touched Immo's head and then set to work setting up the room as he would expect it to be.

"When time resumes, you will need to be sitting in that chair," her voice was very soft, somewhat subdued as she gestured to the chair.  "He will need to see you as you normally appear after he has hypnotized you."  Sam turned to set up the chair.

  Ian stepped in front of her.  She started to walk around him.  He blocked her path.  "What did I do to hurt you?" he asked.

"You hurt me? I must say you have a vivid imagination."  She laughed, but it was hollow.  "You have your freedom, in a sense.  In time, you will have real freedom."  She started to pass him again.

Ian moved once again to block her passage.  "Explain to me about bindings. Do they hurt? Can they be undone?"

"Bindings done with permission do not hurt."  Her voice cracked and she turned away from him.

Alarmed, Ian took her gently by the shoulders and tried to turn her to meet him.  She resisted, so holding one of her shoulders, he walked around to face her.  Her head was tilted slightly and she was studying the floor intently.  He placed his hand under her chin so he could look into her eyes.

"Look at me." He murmured.  He stepped closer.  "Please."

Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his.  A tear escaped and ran down her cheek.  He recognized the sadness in her eyes, identified with it.  _How could someone so beautiful and kind be so sad, he wondered.  On some distant level he felt her emotions.  Her teasing was a shield, Ian recognized now.  Away from her sanctuary placed her in a fragile state.  A shudder ran through him as to the reason she was here._

"My binding to you brought you here?" he spoke in a hushed tone.  "You are bound to me," he paused as the ramifications crashed through his consciousness.  "I didn't have your permission to bind you, and my pain seized and transported you here."

Sam did not say anything; she broke from his gaze and stared at the floor.  _It took this trip, she decided__, to illustrate what an abomination I am.  How can I expect to help anybody, if I can't earn this man's trust?  She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his eyes.  "What do you want from me? You have such potential, and you need to know how to harness it.  You need the bindings that were frayed temporarily rebound so you will be able to function.  Tell me what you want and I will do my best to find someone worthy to help you."_

"Why can't you teach me?" Inquired Ian.

"You need someone you can trust."  She gave a wry smile, "and I'm obviously not one for the job."

"Why not you?  You said you would be my friend," countered Ian.

"Is Immo the rat faced guy there?" She indicated the Doctor.

"Yes," replied Ian confused.

"Well when you lump me in with him, regarding bindings.  I am certainly not worthy of being your teacher, let alone your friend.  I don't know what I did to earn your revulsion, but I have no choice but to concede to your wishes and leave you alone."

"No," Ian was starting to feel dread.  "I want you as my friend."  He took her by both shoulders and pulled her to him so he could gaze deeply into her lilac eyes.  "I'm sorry if I insulted you, I just…"  He was grasping at words.  "I don't want to have someone controlling me.  I want some privacy."

He took his hands off her shoulders and carefully cradled her head in his hands, making sure she could see his very soul, if she so desired.  After this he doubted she would want to bond with him.  He was a fool.  He met her eyes, and they had taken on the appearance she'd had when she was reading his aura.  Ian was surprised when he saw her eyes begin to twinkle.  

"Hmmm, very interesting."  Her voice husky after being so intense. "Closer," she whispered.

Sam brought her hand up and brushed a strand of his hair off his face, lightly caressing his cheek as she did so.  "Did you know, Mr. Nottingham, that you have little itty-bitsy letters on your forehead?"

Ian's body shuddered under her gentle touch.  Her caresses were like water to a man dying of thirst.  "Letters?  What do they say?"  He tried to match her light-hearted tone.   It was all he could do not to clutch her to his chest and hold her.

"The itty bitsy letters say that you think you are a fool.  Guess what?" She asked in a conspiratorial tone.

"What?" His hopes began to rise.  He didn't want to lose her.  In the back of his mind he thought, she's mine.

"You are not a fool, but then if you want to keep me as a friend, then maybe you are a fool.  Very confusing.  Tell me, do you think I am worthy to be your friend?  I'm sure we can find someone you would be comfortable bonding to.  What do you say?"  She would have tilted her head, but he still held it between his hands.  Absentmindly, she played with a strand of his hair, off and on softly stroking his temple.  It seemed to calm him, she noticed.

"I would be very upset if you were not my friend."  His eyes were drinking in every feature of her face.  "If you don't mind, I would like to bind with you."  He gave her a shy smile.

"I guess we have some work cut out for us.  I'll show you how to do the first binding and I'll guide you through the second.  First, let me wake up Time so we can have a small time pocket to work in without interruption."

Ian reluctantly let her go.  He was startled by the sight of a fashion challenged individual.  If that was Time, no wonder the world was so strange, he thought.


	8. Chapter Seven Knowledge the Brass Ring

_CHAPTER SEVEN…__  Knowledge,__The Brass Ring_

_"Knowing others is intelligence;_

_Knowing yourself is true wisdom._

_Mastering others is strength;_

_Mastering yourself is True Power."_

_                                     Lao-Tzu___

As Sam approached Time, she snatched a cookie from the tray.  Mentally she analyzed the chocolate treat, verifying that it had not been spiked with foreign chemicals.  She stood before Time and cleared her throat.  Sam could not help but wonder if Incarnations dreamed.  With so much responsibility, whatever could their fantasies contain.  Scrutinizing the sleeping form, a pang of remorse slipped between her ribs nicking her heart.  She hoped he would not have difficulty rectifying the mess she was certain to have caused.  Waving the chocolate morsel under his nose made him jump, blue eyes wide.  Time looked around the room remembering the circumstances that brought him to this _mundane place._

He started to huff, but the aroma of a freshly baked cookie distracted him.  His gaze wavered between the cookie and Sam.  Refraining himself from snatching the rich delicacy, his eyes searched her lilac ones.

"Are you finally done?" Time reached for the cookie.  "I have a lot to do, just cleaning up your mess," his tone was haughty.

"Mostly," replied Sam watching his reaction.  "I need a time pocket to do some important work."  She started to hand him the "mundane" treat, and then stopped.

Time's eyes grew wide, "Now what?"

"When I am done here, you can give me instructions so I don't mess up your hard work."  She said calmly.

A surprised look crossed his face.  No one had ever cared about his work; well they did if something went wrong.  Perhaps, he contemplated; she would not be so difficult to work with after all.  Recognition of a job well done was a treasure.  Time regarded her with a new found respect.  She even wanted his instruction, as not to complicate matters.  How he wished the other Divine Ones had been so courteous.

"I believe I can train you how to manipulate without conflicting the cosmos."  His chest puffed up a little.  He'd always wanted to teach and now he had a willing student.  "Set up your time pocket and do what you must.  Here," he pulled off one of the many watches on his arm.  It was a Disney 'Goofy' watch where the timepiece ran backward.  It was one of his favorites.  "Just set the time for thirteen o'clock and I will come."

Sam took the watch skeptically and examined the clock face.  There was no thirteen.  "How do I set it for thirteen o'clock?"

"Don't worry; thirteen will appear when the Time is right."

_Just what I need, another Cipher-Master.  Groaned Sam to herself.  "Would you mind keeping the mad scientist there as well as the recuperating man __amberized?" She requested and handed Time his chocolate bribe.  She turned and gave Ian a wink, then turned back to Time._

Time smiled at her idiom, appreciating its originality not many would refer to time-stop as a fly trapped in amber.  "I can do that.  Remember, thirteen o'clock."  Taking the treat, he wagged his finger at her, and then imploded.  Sam shook her head.  _Incarnations were an odd bunch, she thought._

Ian stood back as Sam spoke with the outlandishly dressed man.  It took him a moment to discover he detected her heart beat, which was different from his.  He made a mental note to ask her about his awakened awareness.  It unnerved him a bit when the bizarre man disappeared.  He never took his eyes off her; afraid she too, would vanish.  He realized she was wearing an oversized coarse brown outfit, instead of her blue silk robe.  Even in unbecoming garb, she was stunning.  She turned while studying an item in her hand.  He watched her fasten it around her delicate wrist, and then look up and smile.  Her smile was radiant and it reverberated throughout his bones.

Checking the face of her new watch showed 'Goofy' with his hand at the three and the longer hand at the twelve, with the seconds ticking backward.  Sam shook her head amazed that the piece actually went in reverse.  She turned fastening it to her wrist, smiled and approached Ian.  His expression was one of wonder and relief; she could understand the wonder, not everyday a person saw Time pop out, but why was he relieved.  _Did I do something to frighten him, she asked herself.  Before she reached him, she finished pulling the rug over the rings imbedded in the floor.  Ian started to cross the room to help._

"Want to help finish arranging this office so it looks like he", she jerked her head to Immo, "finished what he started."

"Sure," he responded, "why does it have to look like he completed?"  The stare he gave Immo was malicious and intense.  Had Sam not been there, Immo would be experiencing a slow painful death, considered Ian.  Instead, he had a _feeling that Sam had something in mind that would make Immo wish for death.  __My senses seem to have heightened from this experience with Sam, he decided._

Sam looked at him quizzically.  Feedback, like placing a microphone too close to another electronic device, only with emotions, caused the hair on her neck and arms to rise.  She caught his eyes with hers.  

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Ignoring the question he asked.  "If you're worried about his _future, I can assure you it will be very unpleasant."   Her eyes scrutinized his aura and physical responses._

Ian didn't know how to answer, believing she would laugh at him.  He tried to break his gaze, but that only made her step closer.  The heat of her body, her skin faintly scented with jasmine, the reality of her friendship, compounded with her heartbeat made him want to seize her and  hold her tight.  Unable to break eye contact, he put his hands behind his back and weaved his fingers together.

"Ian, what's wrong?" His aura was swirling madly, the conflict of mind and emotion was going to overwhelm him.  She wasn't able to determine psychically what the trouble Ian was dealing with internally.  Sam watched him put his hands behind his back, making her more concerned than curious.  Stepping forward, she placed her hands on either side of his head like he had done, moments before, to her.

Ian gasped when she touched him.  Her hands were soft and so gentle, just as he imagined.  Closing his eyes, he sought for the strength not to hold her close, or swear that she would never leave.  _Who did he think he was, bounced around in his brain, __to demand or ask for her friendship?_

"Talk to me," she tilted his head so she could see his eyes.  "Ian," her tone was tender, "if you can't find the words, open your eyes and show me what you are feeling."  She remembered stroking his temples helped calm him before and she hoped it would help now.  Ever so slowly, using her thumbs, she lightly stroked his temples.  An impression began to form in her mind and was starting to gel when he opened his eyes.

He did not so much as gaze into her eyes, but instead devoured hers, and her entire being.  Ian broke the grasp behind his back.  He removed one glove, removed his ring and let it slip onto his small finger and then removed the other glove.  He let the gloves drop to the floor behind him, replaced his ring on the proper finger and slid his hands around her waist.  The material she was wearing was coarse, but his sensitive hands perceived her graceful body.  His hands moved from her waist up to the small of her back.  Subconsciously, he noticed that she was not repulsed or afraid of him.  Knowing this made him feel elated.

The Power of his stare would have knocked her back; instead his hands caught her and pulled her closer.  Images flashed behind his eyes, and she understood why he was unable to explain.  The intensity of his touch and the overpowering of his eyes validated her suspicions.  She had to do the Binding before his psyche began to feed on itself.  As it was, the binding he had accidentally put on her was attempting to reinforce itself, making her the sun in his universe.  Granted, being so highly regarded, read and needed was flattering.  She, unlike the man who had bound him before, believed in free will.  Sam would only be Ian's training wheels, and the time would come where the threads would thin and she, if he desired, would be a vague memory.

Astonishment rippled through his body, Sam recognized his need!  Without thinking, he gave in to his longing and drew her close and held her tightly.  His arms crisscrossed her back and he buried his face into her neck.  A moan escaped him when she stopped stroking his temples and her hands slipped to his chest.

"Ian, I need you to let me go."  Sam murmured.  "I have something to teach you." It had been so long since she'd been held.  His arms were powerful.  The heat of his body, his rapid heart beat was hypnotic. She scrunched her eyes closed and sought for the strength to keep her emotions at bay.

_Oh no, this can't be happening, she scolded herself mentally__.  I'm robbing the cradle.  She didn't remember the change she'd undergone receiving the Power, which had radically changed her physically. _

Ian reveled in holding her, memorizing the way her body seemed to meld with his.  The rise and fall of her breathing, her heartbeat and her scent was incredibly intoxicating.  He adjusted his grip to whisper into her ear.

"Just tell me," he responded, his voice thick with emotion, "I'm a quick study."  One of his hands brushed against Sam's long braid.  He ran his hand up and down the plait which also swept along her back.

His light caress up her back caused Sam to involuntarily start resulting in even more closeness.  Butterflies were starting their flutter dance. _ This man was gorgeous, intelligent, and powerful and did I mention gorgeous, Sam joked inwardly._

"Please Ian, let me go.  I _must show you," beseeched Sam._

"Aye, Ian me Lad, let the Lass go.  Time's awastin'." Mac smirked. He'd been munching on a cookie and watching the show.

He knew the man Sam saved wouldn't harm her.  His Master hadn't been close to anyone for a long time.  He knew a human's soul would die without love and care.  He also figured the Lad needed a good hug before facing reality.    Though the Lad needed her aid, his affection would keep Sam's compassion and ability to give her love freely alive.  He shifted his small body, feeling her conflicting emotions.

The time pocket would hold only so long, and since Sam hadn't gotten the hang of being in control of time, taking risks was not the way to stay alive.

The new voice shook Ian enough for him to pull back and look around.  Over by the treat tray sat a 6" tall human looking creature.  Ian wanted to rub his eyes, but was not about to take his hands off Sam.

"What are you?" Inquired Ian.

"I'm a Fae, similar to a fairy but stronger, smarter…"

"That's enough Mac."  Sam tried to use this distraction to disentangle herself, but Ian wasn't letting go.  Focus, she thought, as tremendous it felt to be held, she had to complete the task.

"And my unofficial name is Mac."  He sniggered.

"How do you do?" responded Ian automatically.  He could feel Sam draw back and he shifted his attention from the short creature, back to the beauty he held in his arms.

"What is it that you want to show me?"  His tone was low and his eyes indicated that it better be important.  The way he kept contact between them revealed he'd hold her for eternity.

"Ian, I want you to hold my shoulders at arms-length.  You are going to see a barrage of colors.  I will explain what I am doing.  Okay?"

Ian considered what she said and slowly nodded.  "Very well." Reluctantly he took his hands off her back and settled them on her shoulders.

"Ian, do I have permission to enter your psychic, spirit and mental realms?"  Sam's voice was very solemn.

"Yes," replied Ian, somewhat perplexed.  Unexpectedly, he saw colors serenely surround Sam.  Light shimmery blues, gold streaks, a few spots of fire-engine red and white luminescence encased his mystery woman.

"The colors you are seeing comprise an aura.  They indicate personality, ability, health and many other events or issues."  She took a deep breath.  Ian's aura was a confusion of many colors.  Greens, blues and reds flashed like lightening, indicating his discontent.  There was one exception, a thick-braided silver cord attached from Ian's heart to Sam's.

"Do I have your permission to Bind with you?" Her voice trembled slightly.  She never thought that she would have to Bind; it required both parties to agree.

"Yes, I wish to Bind with you." Ian's respond was passionate.

 Once bound, a friendship entered another realm, more intense, awareness heightened, and unquestionable loyalty.  Some of the monks explained that the Binding will take the positive emotions and weave love into the relationship.  It usually occurred when a spark of love or a deep sense of caring was involved.

"Now watch," instructed Sam.  She tugged two deep blue threads from her aura.  Leaning toward Ian, she uncovered two blue strands and let them float on the surface of his aura.

"I will do the first Binding, and you will do the second."  She inhaled deeply and then slowly exhaled.  She plucked one of Ian's and her blue threads, and had them meet outside both of their auras.  Twisting one about the other until the two became one long strand.  Sam looked at Ian; his tension had vanished.  He looked invigorated.

Ian had a rush of Power flow through him, into areas he had no concept were there.  He pulled a shaky breath and met Sam's sparkling lilac eyes.

"That was…" he trailed off, there were no words to describe his experience.

"Your turn."  Whispered Sam.  She was observing his reactions, trying to be objective.  She was apprehensive about the outcome of his Binding to her.  Afraid that it would compel him to do her biding or worse yet damage his fragile psyche.  

"Do I have permission to enter your psychic, spirit and mental realms?"  He asked uncertainly.

"Yes, you may."

"Do I have permission to Bind with you?" Ian intoned.

Examining her reactions and the colors of her aura.  A few glints of orange popped among the other colors.  Those are the color of doubts he realized. Information saturated every fiber of his being; he determined this information came from his binding with Sam.  He did not want to let her go, but knew he had no choice.  His craving for her touch diminished, but he was not about to lose her.

Carefully he picked up his and her own blue threads, and then brought them together as he'd seen her do.  Twisting cautiously, the threads were as fine as silk; he finally got the two to merge into one.   A pleased smile lit his face, he looked up from the cord he'd made and discovered she was very pale.

"Sam, did I do something wrong?" His joy turned into alarm.  _Weak, he could feel her life force disappearing.  _

"There must be something I can do."  He _felt her waver; he scooped her up before she hit the floor.  There was a small couch in one of many Irons' art galleries.  Ian carried her into the gallery and laid her on the couch and sat next to her.  Caressing her forehead with his right hand while holding her right hand in his left, he tried to be something that went against all of his training, a gentle man.  He would never forgive himself for causing her damage._

He heard the pitter-patter of little feet and glanced in their direction.  The _Fae took a flying leap and landed next to Sam's head.  It took a couple of breathless moments before she opened her eyes._

"Did you happen to get the license plate of the truck that hit me?"  She smiled weakly.

Ian looked down.  "There was no truck, I did something wrong and you collapsed."  He appeared to be ready to cry.  The only person who had been kind, wasn't repulsed by him, and came to help him, had been harmed because of him.  He couldn't face her and the scorn which he so rightly deserved.

"Hey, why the long face? You look like you just lost your best friend."

"I did," he acknowledged.  "I did something stupid."

Sam's eyes narrowed, "Well who is it and I'll talk to him."

Ian got a baffled look on his face as he stared at her.  "You."

"Back up," quipped Sam.  "I am your best friend? And you lost me?  How could that happen, I'm right here and so are you, therefore, you haven't lost me."  She beamed, "I happen to be a very good problem solver."

Bewilderment accented Ian's face. "You are my best and only friend.  I lost you when I allowed you to be harmed."  He continued to avoid her gaze.  "I am no longer worthy."

"Okay, that's it."  Her tone was serious.  "Look at me!"

Ian met her eyes.  Her fury was more frightening than Irons.

"First off, cut the crap about you 'not being worthy', you are not to belittle yourself.  You are my friend, and if I find someone belittling you, they're in deep dodo.  Second, you did everything right.  I wasn't harmed, just exhausted.  Are we clear?"

Ian couldn't keep the grin from taking over his face.  He couldn't believe how a lecture would be so welcome.

"Yes," he nodded, "we're clear."  He had studied her face and practiced seeing her aura.  The information he was receiving was amazing and so useful.  Having so much knowledge was like having a computerized library anticipating his requirements.  _Incredible, he believed.  Her aura had been weak but her fury had changed it to brilliant hues of every shade. _

He had comprehended how he was to act around Irons and Immo.  The chemicals Sam had adjusted in his brain would neutralize the potions the doctor created.  Ian had the code to turn Irons suspicions to believing he had ordered Ian to do what he asked.  Routines that he had were to be maintained; once she made it back to the monastery and all the paperwork was complete, she would return to the U.S.  She would try and visit, especially if she found a way _not to affect anything electrical.  Ian grinned at that, he hoped she would find a way._

Sam sat up and put her feet on the floor.  She reached down for Mac and had him entangle himself in her hair.  Ian stood, dreading her leaving.

"After I leave, return to the mad doctor's office.  Sit in the chair as though the process worked.  You are supposed to be more pliable to Irons, and your manner subservient.  Not fun I know, but in a while, I'll be in town and the show will begin." She moved toward Ian, a slight smile on her lips.

"I'm going to miss you Ian Nottingham, even if it's for only a few days."

Ian never took his eyes off her; he already had a hollow spot knowing she had to leave.  Her warmth, compassion was a drug.  He committed to memory every moment he'd had with her, especially the feel of her body and the touch of her skin.  Most of all he would miss her teasing smile and soothing caress.

"Don't forget to play the oppressed slave." Mac winked, and then settled into Sam's braid.

Sam rested her hand against his cheek, and looked into his tantalizing eyes.  A delicious shudder moved through him.  He held his breath, so as not to beg her to stay.

She moved to the middle of the room, closed her eyes and reached out into the currents of Time, Destiny and home.  The hairs on Ian's arm began to rise as her Power grew.  It whipped around her like a tornado.  As Ian watched, her image began to grow diaphanous; her being transformed into energy till there was nothing but silence.  He stood dumbfounded, looked around the room and discovered nothing was out of place.  Remembering her words, he returned to Immo's office, ready to play slave of the day.  A wicked grin passed quickly across his face.  Soon Sam would be in New York, and life would be good.

*****

Sam awoke on the Nemesis.  Obviously the Power-winds were not the best way to travel.  _Just ask Dorothy, she thought.  She stretched.  Late afternoon, and she was starving.  In the blink of an eye she was off the cliff and heading back to the Sanctuary.  Brothers started yelling as she approached, it seemed her disappearance had not gone unnoticed.  Soon she was enveloped by brown clad men who ushered her into the Master's reception area.  The look on the Master's face was one of relief._

"Sit Samsara, we have much to discuss." He gestured to a chair.

"Honorable Master, may I present what happened, and then we can talk later.  I am so very tired."  Sam's head was throbbing, she wasn't sure why but figured sleep would help.

"Of course child."  The Master sat back and studied the Divine One.  She was dangerously tired.  His relief was genuine; not being able to find her life force was alarming.  Then he noticed her hair, where there had been only one platinum white streak were two more.  His heart lodged itself in his throat; he had to ask but really didn't want to know.

"You met Incarnations on this trip."  He tried to sound nonchalant.

"Two of them, Time and Evil.  Why are Incarnations so full of themselves?"  Asked Sam.

The Master had no answer and just shook his head, stunned by her careless attitude regarding the Incarnations.  He held out his hands, Sam came close and took them; she gave him all the information she had.  When she released the Master's hands, his face was white.  He looked at her in awe; he knew she was a rare Divine Individual but her exploits were incredible.  Above all, the Master could not determine how she was able to maintain her humanity, with all the Power she had at her disposal.  Her kindnesses were more than one or two monasteries could ever hope to achieve in a lifetime.

Sam bowed low over the Master's.  "May I be excused?"

"Of course, sleep well."  The Master replied somewhat distantly.  "Before you go, we have started the process of sending you back to the United States"

Sam answered with a smile.  "Thank you Master."  She backed out of the room and headed straight to her bed.  She threw herself upon the futon and was asleep before hitting the pillow.

*****

Ian stood transfixed for a moment realizing she had disappeared.  It took a few seconds to sense the loss of her presence.  He could still feel his connection through the binding; it was like having a piece of her in his heart.  Knowing they were _really connected helped lessen the dejection he knew was lurking.  Before going back to Immo's office he went into Irons' room.  Using his new skill, he went and studied Irons' aura.  The malevolence surrounding his master was devastating.  As Ian stood in the room, black oily tendrils snaked quickly toward him only to meet an unseen shield.  Stunned by the velocity and ferocity of the attack, Ian stepped back into the hall.  He would have to be very careful; another look at Irons gave him an idea what his master was expecting the "programming" to have achieved and how he expected Ian to behave.  The next few days would definitely be a challenge.  He returned to Immo's office, sat in the chair Immo was expecting him to occupy, and lowered his head as though he were unconscious._

Approximately fifteen minutes passed, Immo began talking as though he'd never stopped.

"Young Nottingham," he said condescendingly, "you will go to your chamber for a two hour nap, freshen up and check in with Mr. Irons for your updated tasks before breakfast.  Do you understand?"

Ian counted slowly to fifteen before answering in a monotone, "Yes, I understand."  In the back of his mind, he was visualizing ripping Immo apart with his bare hands; it helped to keep his blood pressure low. 

"Very well then, off you go."  Immo made shooing actions with his hands, as Ian stood and headed for the door.  Immo watched Ian leave, proud of the work he had accomplished.  _Yes, Mr. Irons will appreciate my work on __Nottingham__.  Yawning he glanced around his office, seeing there was nothing that needed to be done, decided to take his own orders and go to bed.  He picked up the platter of cookies and deposited the remains in the trash.  Stopping for a moment, he noticed more than just two cookies were gone.  He tried to remember eating them but drew a blank.  Shrugging his shoulders, he decided he must have eaten them while attending to Nottingham.  Immo left the plate on his desk and headed out of the office, flicking off the lights.  He drew in a deep breath as he pulled his door closed behind him, for some reason he had the strangest rhythmic feeling of having his head surrounded by many clocks.  Determined that he was imaging things, propelled him even faster down the corridor to his private suite._

Ian had to force himself to leave without murdering the _rat-faced man as Sam had referred to Immo.  Just thinking about Sam lifted his spirits; she was his hope.  He continued down the hallway to a set of stairs that led down to his room.  Concentrating on his body movements, so that he appeared to still be under the influence of the drug cocktail that Immo injected into his body, was draining.  With the cameras everywhere, he could not afford to have anyone suspicious, especially Irons. _

Once in his hallway, relief set in as he neared his bedroom door.  Punching in the code, he opened the door slowly, entered and stood a few feet in while the door clicked and satisfactorily locked behind him.  The silence and darkness was a welcome respite.  Slightly under and behind the camera, he allowed him to breathe a quiet sigh of relief.  He decided to forgo his nightly ritual and went to bed.  He removed one boot and then the next and fell back on top of the covers.  He rolled away from the camera, briefly thought of Sam and the perplexing events that had occurred and then was overcome by sleep.

*********

Irons awoke refreshed and in an extremely good mood.  The unusual taste of Power was even stronger, as though it had visited him personally during the night.  He had the impression it'd beckoned him.  The promise of his dreams, his black heart's desires being fulfilled, enticed him.  Sensually, tantalizing and stirring him like a gifted lover.  Irons quivered with anticipation; he instinctively knew that_ the Power was not based on gender.  Then he had an instant memory of a reference in his __Master Book, referring to a 'Pure Mystery."  He summoned one of his servants to bring his tome that he might research the exotic tasting Power._

Breakfast tasted splendid.  He took his time reveling in the sensations, texture, taste and smell.  He could not remember when he'd actually enjoyed a meal.  Even the pain from the wound did not detract from his pleasure.  After eating and freshening up with the assistance of a medical aide, he turned his attention to the 'Book'.  He was deeply engrossed when Ian tapped on the door then entered.

Irons looked up at his 'reprogrammed' protégé and gestured for him to take a chair.  Ian stood quietly; eyes down, dressed impeccably and immediately sat in the chair that Irons had gestured.  Irons continued to study the book.

Ian had taken extreme measures when he awoke for his first meeting as the new and improved slave.  He had showered and meticulously dressed for the assignment that Irons was going to send him on as a test.  Stopping by Irons' bedroom and reading his aura the evening before had given Ian the edge on what to expect.  While Irons attention was on the book, Ian peered through his thick eyelashes to scan his Master's aura.

Irons could feel Ian's eyes on his back and smiled to himself.  He may not have the Witchblade in his possession, but he did have the perfect slave, no Irons reconsidered, son.  Slowly he turned away from his prized possession and studied Ian.  He noticed young Nottingham had dressed tastefully and professionally.  That pleased him.

Irons moved back to the bed and picked up his pad, his eyes never leaving the young man, head bowed before him.  His manner was like the 'proverbial cat eating the canary'.

"I trust you slept well, young Nottingham?"  His writing flawless.  He tapped the board to get Ian to read it.

"Yes, Father, I slept very well." Ian responded in a flat tone.  His emotions were overwhelming.  It took everything he had to give the attitude of detachment.  He discovered strength in his binding with Sam.  Although she was miles away, her power flowed into his center.  He almost gasped when her strength met his need.  Luckily Irons was busy scribbling and did not notice Ian's involuntary lurch as he assimilated her Power.

"I have a job for you," Irons wrote, "and I want to see the results tonight." He turned a gloating face to Ian.  This job was a small step back into the path he had arranged for Ian.  

Inwardly, Ian cringed.  How was he going to get around this, he wondered.

"There is a reference to "Pure Mystery" in this book.  Power, Ian.  Power that outshines the Witchblade.  Today you will go and gather information regarding this citation, the Zen Monastery should be able to, and shall we say enlighten you.  Talk to them and see if the 'Mystery' is a scroll or item."

Ian almost sagged with relief.  He wasn't going to be ordered to go after Sara.  He automatically nodded to Irons.

"I will go at once, Father.  Will there be anything else?"  Ian kept his head bowed, acting as subservient as he could without giving himself away.

Irons studied Ian, pleased at what he saw.  Something niggled at the back of his brain.  He stood and walked slowly toward Ian.  There was _something about Ian.  Irons narrowed his eyes and slowly stalked around Ian.  He shifted the air; the scent of Power encircled Ian. __How could that be?  He reached out and was about to touch Ian, when Ian edged out of the way and stood submissively facing Irons._

Irons pulled himself to his full stature and gazed menacing at Ian.

"Ian is there something you are not telling me." Using his authoritative voice, Irons scrutinized Ian's reactions.  There was something about Ian.  _I'll give him enough rope and he'll hang himself, Irons decided._

_Steady, Ian thought, __he's fishing.  "No sir." He kept his position, unmoving and unemotional._

"Very well, Ian." Irons gave him a gracious smile, "Just make sure you eat breakfast before going to the Zen Mountain Monastery."

Ian nodded.  The hairs on the back of his neck standing, he knew that his father sensed something.  He only hoped that Sam would arrive soon. 

"Will there be anything else, sir?" Ian spoke in a soft tone.

"No, just gather as much information about "the Pure Mystery."  Irons walked back to the bed.  Malice heavy in his eyes, he watched Ian leave the room.

Disgusted, he went back to his book, wondering if Ian was really 'reprogrammed'.  If Ian had been 'reprogrammed', Irons pondered, and it seemed there was a prescience coalescing around him, perhaps he could use Ian as bait.  If not, that thought made him pause, no Ian was too subservient, and the cameras had followed every movement.  Ian's bathroom morning routine indicated that he was indeed tame.  Irons grinned, young Nottingham thought his bathroom was his safe haven.  Irons used it as a gauge to determine Nottingham's level of dependability.  Away from the eye of the camera, Ian let his guard down, minute things, such as enjoying the hot shower and privacy.  Little things added up, Ian proved this morning that the reprogramming had adjusted his values.  Ian mechanically done what was necessary while preparing for the day.  Irons' mood brightened a little and returned to research _his Pure Mystery._

Ian headed for the kitchen to grab a bagel and some orange juice.  He paused at the computer terminal in the kitchen to locate the Zen Mountain Monastery.  Memorizing the directions, he completed his breakfast.  He left the house, slipping into the little black Porsche, he allowed himself to relax.  He worked hard to maintain the subservient character, after discovering the device set into his boot; he figured Irons had to have his bathroom wired.  He had just gone through the motions of cleaning, remaining emotionless, taking just enough time to make sure he was thorough.  Starting the car and pulling out onto the highway, Ian replayed last night's events over in his head.  After all that happened, he could only marvel at the woman who was his friend.  He set a course for the Zen Mountain Monastery.  

*******

Power surged away from Sam, waking her and leaving her breathless.  Ian, she closed her eyes and located him.  He was unharmed, just attempting to be subservient.  She realized he was going to need her help, at least support till she arrived in New York.  She was about to dissolve her informal link to Ian when she picked up two topics, the Zen Monastery and Pure Mystery.  A chill swept through her; Irons was quicker at identifying the possible source of Power than she thought.  She hoped that no harm would befall the Zen Mountain Monastery Brothers.  That Refuge was going to act as her halfway house when she returned to the States.  Tonight she would have to set up false leads regarding the 'mystery'.  But first, a small smile crept across her face; Mr. Irons was in for technical difficulties.  She sat up on her futon and stretched.  After she cleaned up and ate, she would confer with the Master.  Then she would set to work creating an intricate diversion.

It was gonna be a hot time in the faraway city tonight.  


	9. Chapter EightStorm Warning

Zen Mountain Monastery is an actual place.

Any details or people are all fictional.

Depiction to any living or deceased is purely coincidental.

**_CHAPTER EIGHT_****_…__Storm Warning_**

_"It's not the answer that enlightens,_

_but the question."_

_                                                    Eugene Ionesco___

After being jarred awake from the Power flux, Sam confirmed that Ian was not in imminent danger after "touching" his aura.  She reluctantly left her bed.  Her stomach growled which was echoed by all of her Artifacts.  If she was hungry, they were hungrier.  They fed off her Power and energy.  The earthen pitcher and basin were filled with fresh, jasmine scented water.  Pulling off the coarse brown robe, she tossed it into a growing heap of clothes she had to take to the river to wash.  Stripping down, she unenthusiastically soaked a sponge and gave her body a preliminary rinse.  Next she took a 'home-made' disk of jasmine scented soap and lathered her face and body.  Biting her lip, she took a larger cloth and rinsed off all the soap.  If she hadn't known for a fact that the monastery had no electricity, she would have bet the Brothers kept the water in the freezer, as it was; her goose-bumps had goose-bumps.  Once all the soap was removed she grabbed a large towel and wrapped it around her, took another towel and dried of various parts her body, rubbing vigorously to warm her frozen limbs. She pulled on her undergarments, relishing the feel of silk against her skin.  Drawing out a clean and fresh delicate shift, she slipped it over her head.  It was a buffer against the rough material of the monk's robes.  She draped the towels near the firebox to dry; the water she poured out her window. She left her room and used the privy, cleaned her hands and headed for the kitchens.  The birds were serenading the sun as it dipped below the horizon.

Dinner had been served over an hour ago, so she had to scrounge leftovers to tide her over till breakfast, midnight in China, and lunchtime in New York.  Plans were beginning to come together in her mind to keep Irons distracted or at least busy so he shouldn't have time to notice that Ian was outgrowing him, let alone was more powerful.  Sam considered her face-off with Evil.

Irons' aura and Evil's influence certainly explained a fair amount of Ian's lack of self esteem and self worth.  She shook her head.  Ian believed Irons to be his father.  Ian's psyche was adamant about that fact.  But, when she'd read Irons, he was no father but a slave master.  Knowing the truth about Irons, what he had done to Ian's mother was unspeakable.  Marrying the woman so he would have the child after he'd killed her, and to add insult to injury did not formally adopt Ian and give him the Irons name.  Back then Irons could read power, the nature of Ian's bloodline or more likely, pliable personality.  Irons indeed had sort of a bargain with Evil, but Sam was very certain Irons hadn't read the fine print and would be in for some unpleasant surprises.

Sam couldn't wait that long. Irons was truly a loathsome creature.  She wanted to take him out and shoot him like a mad dog, like they did in Old Westerns; however, she had to follow new rules.  She took a deep breath trying to draw upon one of the Buddhist Precepts, "actualize harmony-do not be angry."  She slowly exhaled, calling upon another Buddhist Precept, "Proceed clearly-do not cloud the mind."  Chiding herself about backsliding, she was still torn by her previous 'do what needed to be done' from her previous 'existence', to making peace and finding a solution that did not take life.  A wicked smile graced her face, she may not kill him outright, but she could sure make his life inconvenient.   _I think I might like this job.  She washed her dinner-ware and went to find the Master. _

******

Ian pulled up to the Zen Mountain Monastery.  The drive had been liberating, little traffic for a week day which was somewhat surprising.   He had kept his mind clear, not wanting to think about facing Irons again, there was something he had noticed but wasn't sure what it meant.  The cluster of black and grey pus-like goo near the center of Irons' heart had an eerie glow.  And, he tried not to think about Sam, but small things would come to mind as he was driving.  He wanted to tell her about the beauty, he stopped himself, that wasn't true, he wanted to show her.  Sara was his priority, and Sam insisted that he remain true to his Destiny.  It would be easier to remain true to his Destiny if Sara would show him a little respect or even say thank you after he'd given her information; information that would earn him the lash if Irons knew.

Spring was in the air.  Wildflowers bent as he whipped past and the trees were getting their fresh green foliage.  Above, the sky was as blue as a robin's egg, light fluffy clouds added to the tranquility.  He pulled the black Porsche onto a gravel road, gritting his teeth every time he heard a ping against the car.  A sign directed him to visitor's parking and he pulled into a nearly empty parking lot.  The forest canopy gave the illusion of being in a magical land.

Two other cars, from out of state had been parked haphazardly, indicating they must have arrived when it was after dark and no lights to judge distances.  The monastery was not only a place of enlightenment, but offered inexpensive rates to weary travelers.  Ian studied both cars.  A well worn station wagon had individual tape players, children's books and tapes littered the back, along with road trip bags of munchies.  He could only imagine the havoc the parents must be having on this trip.  He could almost hear the echoes of "he's touching me" and "are we there yet" resounding around the interior of the car.  The second car was a well loved yellow Toyota Corolla.  A backpack with college books spilled across the back seat.  Up front were thick holders of music CDs, and this car had a different blend of road trip snack wrappers.  Around him on three sides, he saw the lush forest, wildflowers had opened to greet the day and offer their sweet delights to bees and an occasional hummingbird.  Facing north, a massive door had been set into the walls of stone.  A dirt path went around the right side indicating there was an opening for vehicles to deliver necessities.

He drew close to the door and discovered he had to ring a large bell. He raised his eyebrow, bemused, picked up the heavy rope and gave a hard tug.  It was a deep, bone vibrating pitch; he was surprised by its extraordinary volume.  He waited a few minutes and he heard the slap of sandals on a cobblestone walk.  A young man, barely nineteen, Ian guessed, pulled the massive door open and greeted Ian with a smile.

"Welcome sir," piped the dark haired man, "Do you come for rest or enlightenment?"

Ian had to suppress the smile that wanted to sneak across his face, instead he quietly replied, "I am looking for information and I was directed here."  He gestured with his hands at the walled compound. 

"Ah,"responded the eager novitiate, "Come in, would you like some refreshments while I find the Master to help you."

Ian was going to decline, but his stomach growled in response.  Betrayed by his own body, Ian looked into the man's brown eyes, "Yes, I would greatly appreciate some refreshment."

The enthusiastic student smiled even wider, "Please come in, my name is Brother Jason, I will show you to our reflective garden and have something brought out for you.  Is tea to your liking?"   

Ian nodded as he entered, "Tea would be fine."

"Follow me please," said Jason.  He led Ian through a beautifully kept and useful garden. Different variations of sage melded into beds of rosemary.  Peppermint and spearmint had their own areas of the garden; a large Eucalyptus tree had a bed of pennyroyal winding by it and down one of the footpaths.  Brother Jason had Ian take a seat under an ancient oak tree, overlooking the grounds that sprawled, with the mountains acting as a breathtaking backdrop.  Jason disappeared for a few moments and came back with some tea, an assortment of muffins and fresh fruit.  The muffins were still warm from the oven; their aroma reminded him how hungry he really was.  Jason excused himself and went off to find his Master.

Since Ian remembered his little _problem with Immo, he surreptitiously looked around to see if there were any cameras or possible bugs.  He had time to consider the young man's aura as he peeled off the wrapper from the banana nut muffin.  The novitiate's aura was awash with blues, sparks of silver and larger spots of red, coalescing around him was a faint white cloud.  He was a good kid, Ian decided, and sunk his teeth into the moist, warm and delicious muffin.  He closed his eyes; he had never had a chance to enjoy his food.  Chewing slowly and relishing each crumb, he surmised the drugs they had been mixing in his food had been another way to dull his senses.  After he finished the muffin, he poured himself a cup of tea.  The tea was a combination of herbs that complimented the flavor of the fresh baked treat.  The birds were singing, off in the distance he heard water running and remembered the monastery was built close to a river.  He was enjoying a second cup of tea when a gray haired man came up the walk.  Ian put his cup down, hastily wiped any crumbs off his beard and stood._

Ian extended his hand and gave the older man a sincere smile.  The older man serenely smiled and accepted Ian's hand.

"I understand you are here seeking information."  The Elder of the monastery was to the point, his grey eyes direct, studying Ian.

"Yes," Ian stated hesitantly, "I came to discover what the 'Pure Mystery' is?"  He tried to pinpoint the Master's aura, but all he discerned was a thick heavy veil of white.  When he tried to lock on to any feature, it was if his eyes had hit a slick and were diverted elsewhere.

The man's sudden bark of laughter took Ian by surprise.  Ian wasn't sure how to respond.

The Master chuckled a moment and met Ian's eyes.  "You know what it is son, and it will be up to you to help protect it."  He noticed Ian's feeble attempts to 'read' him, but was not displeased; he considered Ian's effort as a student practicing a lesson.  That was not the reason for his visit, and it was obvious that he would have his own tutor, the Master kept the smile from his face

Ian was baffled, how could he help protect what he did not know.  More importantly how could he keep it out of Irons' grasp?  "Does the 'Pure Mystery" have to do with Power?"

"That would be an understatement," the old man cocked his head, "You really have _no clue?"  The Elder read Ian's aura and realized what he had gone through; he also recognized the binding, which startled him.  For someone to have such an intense bond to the Divine One, he is not only considered worthy but to be given Sanctuary if the need arose._

"Son I can tell you two things, first you are hereby granted Sanctuary if the need arises.  Second, you know the 'Pure Mystery' better perhaps that the Mystery's Master."

As the words of the Elder sunk in, the meaning punched him in the gut.  He raised his eyes to the gray-haired man before him, his throat had closed up but he still managed to say, "Samsara?"

The Elder nodded slowly, "She set herself up as bait."

"Why?" This couldn't be happening he thought.  Why would she risk her life for him? He was only a slave to Irons.  Ian shook his head, "Why would she do this?"

The old man gave Ian an ironic smile, "You're asking me?  I didn't understand women when I entered the monastery, and I sure don't understand them now."

"How can I protect her?" Ian was grasping at straws.  He refused to lose the one person who let him be someone.

"First, don't let her know that you are going to try and protect or save her. Second and most important, follow her lead."  The Elder shook his head, "Don't worry, there is nothing that your 'boss' can do that will hurt her, except put you and those you care for in danger.  Don't let on that you know her, pretend to be the lackey he thinks you are."

"What's going to happen?" Ian was starting to despair.  Not Sam he thought, don't take her.

"Don't worry, Samsara has her plans," a slow secret smile slipped upon his face, "what Sam doesn't know is that she has a whole army behind her.  Don't tell her, let's keep it between us."  He gave Ian a knowing wink.

Ian nodded, relieved.  "So what should I tell Mr. Irons?"

"Tell him it holds great power, and will be coming to the U.S., but that was all you were able to find out; and that you will keep looking."  The Master poured himself a cup of tea, enjoy your visit today.  Peruse the libraries, take your time, there is no rush to return to the city."

"But…" began Ian.

"If you are worried about your charge, Detective Pezzini, she has a couple of our best watching out for her."  He smiled at Ian's reaction.  "She is important to you, and you are important to Samsara, all will be well.  You might want to make a call to Mr. Irons, to say you were granted access to the library."  The old man chuckled again, I'm afraid Sam has plans for a few of Mr. Irons' toys."  He brought the tea up to his lips and sipped it slowly.  Watching the flurry of emotions cross the young man's face, he sat back while Ian stood, excused himself and went to make the call.  

The call was incredibly brief, the mountains broke up the cell phone signals, but he was able to tell Irons he had access to the Libraries, a text message came back with only one word.  _'Good". _

*********

Sam caught her Master before he started his meditation.  He smiled and bade her welcome into his tiny room.  He gazed upon her as if she were _his precious daughter.  He gestured for her to sit and raised his hand to silence her before she spoke._

"Í understand you have a plan Samsara, regarding the evil man's machines.  Do what you will, however, you must attend to the man you are bound to and strip him of the scent of your Power.  He and those he cares for, will be the currency the Iron man will endeavor to use to have you succumb to his will."  He placed his hand on her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes.  "I must leave the Refuge for a short time, when I return; all the arrangements for your journey back to the United States will be complete."

Sam just sat there.  He knew.  She slapped herself mentally, of course he knew, that's why he's the Master.  She watched the Master's aura shift, his mind was elsewhere.

"Okay, then.  I'll go and break Irons' toys.  Tonight, stateside time, I'll make sure there is nothing that will tie Ian to me that the 'Monster' can detect."  She looked at her Master, concerned.  "Is everything all right Master?"

He met her concerned lilac eyes flecked with gold and silver and nodded.  

"Go and do what is necessary, our time grows short."  Removing his hand from her cheek, he settled back, ready to meditate.

She understood her time at the monastery was limited to a few days, at best.  The warmth of her Master's hand on her cheek brought tears to her eyes.  This Order had become the family she had lost; and she did not want her time here to end.  Lives were at stake, there was only one choice.

Sam recognized her cue to leave.  She stood and bowed and backed out of the spartan room.  She was going to miss him, even though she knew he would always be within "calling distance".  The thought made her smile.  Deciding the beach would be a better place to work, she told one of the Brothers where she was heading and declined his offer to accompany her.  Once out of the walls, she said the 'Word' and her Artifacts appeared around her, charging and running but not touching the top of the plants, flying more than leaping over the grasses and occasional shrub.  Most of them were leading the way to the beach.  Mac sat on her shoulder and her two protective 'Dogs' were on either side of her.  Her Snow leopard was in front of Sam and Tigger, although he bore no resemblance to Pooh's storybook companion, brought up the rear.  Being careful not to tread on the vegetation, she decided the best way to cause havoc with Irons' businesses.  First to disable the satellites, and then once in the States she would discover other operations that would be difficult for Irons to replace.

She reached the beach and found a high spot on one of the sandy dunes.  Sitting down on the rug that rolled open for her, she gave the Artifacts orders to stay close.  Mac was unusually quiet and she turned her attention to him before starting her work.

"What's wrong Mac?" Sam studied her small cohort.

"Do you think the young Lad is aright?"  His voice was serious.

"I checked on him earlier Mac and he was fine.  We'll be visiting later.  After I am done here, I'm going to take a short nap and we should be able to catch him on the rooftop across from his Lady." She was able to use the ability of her owl Artifact so she was able to see Mac easily in the dark.  "Anything else?" She watched for his reaction.

"No, not really." He looked down.

"Okay Mac, what's really going on?" Sam watched him squirm.

"I like 'im."He muttered his aura swirling madly.

"I do too, Mac, so what's the problem?" Sam was trying not to grow impatient, but she wanted to get her work done.

"Well," he hedged, "Why aren't you his Lady?  You saved him."

"Oh Mac, I suppose it is because she is his Destiny.  My Destiny doesn't include him; I'm pretty much on my own, except for you guys."  She gave him a slightly sad smile.  "Let's just enjoy his company until it's time to move on, okay?"  Who am I trying to sell here, she thought, me or Mac?  "Work to do Mac, chat later."  She heard a small sniffle and he was quiet.  Sam cupped her hand around Mac and sent her love into and through him, trying to comfort her friend.  She shut her eyes, as if attempting to keep a significant emotional distance from Ian.  She was too old for him; there was another who was evidently important in his future.  Heaven forbid she'd forget the fact there were immense obligations to face.

Sam opened her eyes and looked lovingly at Mac.  The only romance she would be able to have this lifetime would be from books and movies.  Pushing negative, draining thoughts into a closet in her mind, she took a deep cleansing breath and slowly exhaled.  Mentally she reached skyward.

Sam focused on the night sky, closed her eyes and sought her targets.  The satellites owned were easy to find.  Although Irons had never touched the parts that went into the machines, they emitted a subdued form of his aura.  It was even easier to sweep space debris into them and their orbits.  Within an hour Irons had no eyes in the sky.  

*****

Vorschlag bunkers for satellite surveillance were highly classified bases.  The main control room was dimly lit with top of the line hardware and personnel.  Among all of Irons' branches of control, they were the best.  Efficient and meticulous, the supervisors made sure testing and observation maintained the highest degree of quality.  Huge monitors were labeled regarding their function on each wall.  The room mirrored NASAS' control room, concerning the placement of computers and personnel.  Each computer was manned; operators were continuously on line with the other bases, verifying trajectories and information gathered. 

Adrian Quinn, the manager of Operations came strutting in with four large pizzas from Papa John.  The control room soon had the ambiance of an Italian restaurant. He carried the boxes as if he was 'Papa John' delivering pizza.  He winked at Monica and gave a general greeting to the rest of the staff.

"I expect full reports as soon as I put these in the break room.  No report, no pizza."  He grinned and sauntered into the break room and was setting the boxes down when the alarms began blaring.  Forgetting the pizza, Quinn rushed back into the main control room.

Some of the satellites had an array of cameras which not only focused on general and specific targets on earth but on some Vorschlag and the competition's satellites.  Quinn stood transfixed as he watched several chunks of space matter actually coalesce and move into the path of Vorschlags' programmable satellites.

"Hank, talk to me," yelled Quinn, "how is this happening?  Route that satellite into another path."

Hank was scrambling to adjust the satellite into another orbital path but shocked when the debris shifted and the satellite was bombarded, totally destroying the solar panels then the entire body of the space computer.

"We've lost two other satellites, according to the base in Australia," shouted Nancy.  Punching in the coordinates from the 'down under' base, "Morse, from Australia is waiting to conference with you and Ashe in France."

"Put them on monitor two." Snapped Quinn.  "Those of you that can adjust your satellites orbit, do so.  Who or whatever appears to know their paths.  Jeannie, call Rick and see if we can lease the use of some of their 'birds'.  He watched in horror as another geo-sync satellite scattered like the down from a dandelion.

He forced his eyes off the silent destruction occurring in front of him and faced his earth bound counter parts.  Before he could address them Mike's voice interrupted.

"Alexisky, our Russian base is waiting to join the conference."

"Put him through," Quinn considered, "Call Winston in the UK and find out why he hasn't called."  In this case, no news is not good news, thought Quinn.  He stared at the Managers looking at him as though he had the key to this disaster.

"Before anyone starts their report, try and move your satellites and have someone call and see if we can lease time on the other Space Peepers."  

He watched as the people in other parts of the world gave their subordinates more orders.  He could not fathom how this could be happening.  Behind him, he heard his people cursing as they observed their 'charges' being destroyed after adjusting their paths in order to avoid the new danger.

"Go ahead Ashe," invited Quinn.  He could hear the shouts behind the people he hoped might have at least a clue to why this obliteration seemed so absolute.

"All of our satellites are destroyed.  They were gone in a matter of minutes." Ashe said solemnly, he was pale.  Each manager knew their lives were on the line.  They'd better come up with a solution quick, Ashe said to himself.

"All the communications to and from Vorschlag in the United Kingdom are out."  Nancy called up to Quinn.  "Winston went to a cyber-café in London and sent a scrambled message to his sister who works as a nurse at County.  She drove to your house Quinn and gave it to your wife.  She just hand delivered it."

Quinn closed his eyes, thankful he had a remarkable wife.  "Have it unscrambled."  He turned to the conference call, met each man's gaze, "Work with your supervisors, operators and back-up tapes and see if we can find the people responsible.  Bring in security and see if you can find the leak.  We'll reconvene in forty-five minutes."  He tried to exude calm, but he was far from being calm.  Mentally he was screaming in panic.  Quinn prayed they would find a solution to present to Mr. Irons.  It was common knowledge that this company did kill the bearer of bad news.      

******

Back in the Master's room, he placed a few items in a rucksack.  One item, wrapped in red silk was padded between other items.  He remembered how this evening came to be.

His reoccurring dreams had conveyed an undertaking that would require him to unite with six other monasteries' Masters.  They were to work as one on a special Artifact for the Divine One.  For years, each Master had been working on a piece of the Relic and in a days' time they would meet, assemble and imbue It with theirs Powers woven in an intricate and unusual pattern.  This would be the second time they had used their Power as a group.  The first time they had managed to stave off the destruction of civilization, such as it was.  The human race had been on the brink of World War III, total annihilation due to the petty jealousies and rivalries of third world countries that not had been taken seriously by the major World leaders.  The Masters had almost failed due to an engineering flaw of the Artifact they set upon the earth, to calm and repair the damage of Hate.  They had been without a Divine Individual which would have averted the problem before it reached the severity they'd had to face.

Each of the Masters had met Samsara at least once, mainly on the astral realm.  They had agreed the Ancestors had chosen wisely, and were awed by the fact the incredible Power had not distorted her humanity.  If anything, it had given her a deeper capacity for compassion which the world was desperately lacking.  But the deeper compassion came with a cost, a blind spot so to speak, about danger and the Masters had been given visions of their part in sending Her into the unforgiving world.  They would be giving her a powerful protection, as well as a beacon for them to find Her without having to meditate.  Any bindings she had or might have would not influence her or the ones she was bound to.  All they would have to was think of her, and they would be aware of her situation and position.  This would allow them to support Her with strengths and abilities that she had yet to realize.  All of them had mixed feelings about letting Her leave the Sanctuary.  They were excited for Her but they also wanted to keep Her safe in the Refuge. 

Bag ready, the Master left in the dark to meet the others in a predetermined hut.  Teleportation was rarely used, but this evening events called for extraordinary measures.  The trip was quick and successful.

He saw light from under the door of the hut as he approached.  He knocked twice, and then entered.  He was the second to the last to arrive.  As he went to take a place at the table where they would be constructing the Artifact, he took out his piece of the new Artifact.  After a few moments, the last Master from the Cliff Refuge came into the hut.  The moment had come, the Cliff refuge Master made his way to the table, dug into his bag and brought out his red wrapped item.  Each Master unwrapped their piece and set it inside a specially drawn circle.  The men then took each others hand and they began to chant.

******

Taking no chances, Sam rearranged atom like particles around satellites that Irons would likely try to access next.  Irons' aura had a sequence that was akin to a fingerprint, try as he would, none of the satellites would be accessible.  Exhausted, she curled up on the rug which coiled around her.  Her Artifacts arranged themselves strategically near and kept watch while she slept.

******

  Alarms were still blaring as Vorschlag lost one satellite after another.  Every console showed them winking out of existence.

After forty-five minutes, the managers attempted to have another conference call to discover why each of Vorschlags' eyes in the sky was disappearing.  Unfortunately, they were unable to contact each other.  Not only were their satellites down, but no satellite allowed Vorschlag communications.

********

Sven expertly took Irons through his first physical therapy session.  He was one of the few people Irons trusted to manipulate, or at least, touch his body.  The session was brief, yet Sven was very aware of what Irons body could tolerate.  He had an innate ability to push or stretch a muscle to within a fraction of an inch of what it could stand. He only spoke to Irons when explaining what the therapy would accomplish, no idle chit chat.

Irons was disgusted with the fact that he was to be twisted and stretched.  True he had the best physical therapist, yet seeing the Swede's perfect physique while his body betrayed him was but salt on a wound.  He paid no heed to the man's nattering of 'why' he was being bent like a pretzel.  Just do your job, he thought.

Ian's call had been well timed.  He had gained access to the monastery's library.  He could count on Ian getting the information he needed.  It was as if he had called, the memory of the new Power's flavor he sought seemed to reassert its presence.  This time it was more than just a taste for his tongue to savor; his entire body had the sensation.  It started low in his groin and spread, like ripples from the center of a pond, outward gaining warmth.

He closed his eyes.  Sven's hands added to the intensity of the burn.  Irons gritted his teeth; not being able to moan was torture.  The Power was demanding.  He could swear that the Power was close, being used.  His body could not ignore the demand; his hand grasped the towel until his knuckles were white.  He bit down on the towel under his head to hold back the scream.

Irons disregarded Sven's questions.  The Power seemed to surge, taunting him.  His body responded to the tantalizing torment, sweeping him closer to the edge.  The energy was unforgiving, making him tremble and throb for more.  A roller coaster came to mind, except the Power was the rails; his body was the cars, jerked this way, drawn to the brink.  It stopped.  He teetered.  He needed more, just a little bit more he pleaded.  Irons gasped for air, eyes closed he felt like he was playing Marco Polo, but in this case he was seeking the Power.

Gently, imperceptibly the Power was there.  He didn't want gentle; he demanded satisfaction his way.  Wicked, explosive, his mind shrieked.  There was no verbal reply to his desire however, there was a wicked answer.  Slowly, lightly like a feather passing in spirals around his groin, enticing his body.  The need flared, his body bucked and the flame licked his entire being.  The Power was being molded, reshaped and he was experiencing every delicious flux.  Again the energy tortured him to the very precipice of satisfaction, he couldn't breathe or move just a nudge and he would be in nirvan……

"Mr. Irons. Um, excuse me Mr. Irons."

 The man waited a few moments then hesitantly, he advanced through the door, feeling as though he were about to be eaten by a lion.

Irons' body shuddered.  _So close his mind screamed.  He took a couple of shuddery breaths and looked up to see one of his top managers holding a file._

The manager's face looked bloodless, and his eyes were like that of a 'deer caught in the headlights'.

Irons loosened his grip on the towel and beckoned the man to enter.  _What I really want, he considered,__ is to have you drawn and quartered._

He raised his eyebrow, indicating the man better say what he must.

Irons waved Sven away, gesturing to continue tomorrow.   Sven nodded and gathered his things.

"Well, Mr. Irons, sir.  We have evidence all the Vorschlag satellites are out of commission.  Some of the reports suggest solar activity; other reports explain the satellites were caught in several, unexplained asteroid showers.  Many of the satellites were taken out simultaneously."

"The other managers and I believe that it is an act of sabotage.  We have called to try and lease other satellites but there seems to be something jamming our signals."  Having said his piece he slowly tried to back out of the room.  Irons put up his hand, stopping him in midstride,

Irons gestured to his pad, which the manager handed him.  He wrote "ALL Satellites?"  Irons eyes bored into the very skull of the man in front of him, which only succeeded in making him shake more.

"Yes sir.  All."  He swallowed hard.

Irons looked down, disgusted and disbelieving.  He picked up his cell phone and placed a call to Nottingham.  He reached a recording that "His call did not go through."  Furious, Irons threw the phone across the room, narrowly missing the manager.

The effects of his PT were catching up to him.  Damn, he thought, not one word of his loss was to be made known.

Irons considered calling in a favor.

*****

Ian returned to his seat across from the Master after his call with Irons.  The Elder had waited patiently for Ian's return.

"Any difficulties with your employer?"  The grey haired man asked.  He held a blueberry muffin in his hand.  His demeanor had changed; he still had the slippery white aura.  Ian shook his head, and accepted the muffin and sat down across from the Elder.

Ian had a sense that a storm was brewing, although there were no clouds in the sky.  He bit into his muffin; inhaling the wonderful aroma and the feast it delivered to his palate.  He was finishing the muffin and a second cup of tea when the novice came padding towards them.  He stopped a few feet away and informed the Elder that he had an urgent call.  The Master did not seem surprised, and he stood.

"Feel free to roam the grounds," he smiled, "this is a wonderful time of the year.  Please excuse me."

Ian half stood, but the old man waved for him to remain seated.  He left Ian alone under the old tree.  The harder he tried not to think of Sam, the more she invaded his thoughts.  He sighed and gave into temptation.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and "saw" the silver braided cord.  It seemed thicker than he remembered, but he didn't feel concerned.  Ian imagined holding the cord and following it to Sam.  He gasped when it worked; he saw, felt, smelled and tasted her.  She was on the beach.  His spirits started to lift, and then he noticed something he'd witnessed on Irons.  The gray and black glowing mass was very tiny, but something told him it was evil.

Sam lay on the beach, surrounded by her Artifacts.  He noticed tears in Mac's eyes.  Frantically he searched for something that should have been apparent before he saw her.  There were no monks with her which he found odd.  His knowledge wasn't complete, but he believed something was amiss. 

Her aura, her life force was so faint.  He thought she might be dying.    


	10. Chapter NinePast Revisted

_To My Readers:_

_ Thank you for your patience.  Being ill made it impossible to write, this was a difficult Chapter due to the violent past that plagues Sam._

_I would appreciate input regarding Sam and Ian's relationship.  It is amazing how characters decide their path, contrary to what the author has planned._

****

****

**_Chapter Nine…__Nightmare Relived_**

_"__Don't take life too serious.  You'll never escape alive anyway."_

_Elbert Hubbard_

Ian stood, looking about the garden frantically for the Elder or one of the Brothers that had been passing through the compound.  He spotted the young novitiate Brother Jason.  Fighting the urge to shout, he gestured for Jason to approach while he strode forward meeting him halfway.

"I need to speak to your Master or Elder."  Ian was unaware that he was gesticulating wildly, using his hands to emphasize his requirements.  "My friend is in trouble and I don't know how to help."  His face was etched from intense concern.

Brother Jason listened calmly, waiting for Ian to finish his statement.  Jason had noticed how reserved Ian had been earlier; his insistence must indeed be important, he surmised.  He signaled Ian to follow him, and led him into the main building.  The interior was cooler than in the garden.  The furnishings were sparse, mainly bookcases neatly arranged behind glass doors with two wooden chairs separated by a small table on which sat a brass lamp.  A well worn sofa was across from the chairs.  He motioned for Ian to wait a moment; he knocked and then disappeared through a heavy wooden door.

Ian began to pace, barely noticing the carved panels along one wall.  Each panel depicted a moment from a tempest period of various religions' history.  Grieving women on a battlefield collecting their loved ones to a depiction of Christ's crucifixion, meticulously detailed.  Ancient scrimshaw plates relayed the turmoil of China's political and religious past.  He found it ironic that Irons had the panels portraying the Kama Sutra, yet here he was surrounded by images of war and loss.

He was jostled from his reverie by the Elder clearing his throat.  Ian turned eyes wide, ready to appeal.  The look on the Master's face was sympathetic and implied Ian would not have to plead his cause.  He motioned for Ian to enter.  The room had cedar paneling, with built in bookcases.  A smaller desk faced the door Ian and the Master had entered; a larger desk set further back with two chairs positioned in front of it.  Behind the large desk were floor to ceiling windows which faced a courtyard and bubbling fountain.  Surveying the room as he entered, Ian spied a side door, and decided the young man had exited unobtrusively.

The older man gestured for Ian to take a seat in front of the large teak desk.  Ian expected the Elder to sit behind the desk, and was surprised when the Master pulled the other chair close to Ian's.  He looked at the Master, astonished that someone of stature would sit with a low born.  He found it hard to meet the old man's eyes.

"Jason tells me that your friend is in trouble.  I presume it is Samsara, correct?"

The adrenaline seemed to be wearing off and now Ian felt very self-conscious.  "Yes sir.  She was on the beach.  One of her," he hedged, "Artifacts was crying and her life force was alarmingly low."

"So, what do you propose, Mr. Nottingham?" The tone was curious, yet soothing.  The Master was pleased to see that Ian did not have difficulty accepting the unusual things he had seen.

"She needs help."  Ian looked directly into the Master's eyes, "tell me how I can help her, please."

The Elder studied Ian for a moment, saying nothing, Ian was sure the answer would be negative by the way the Master held his body.  He was ready to dismiss the young man's plea as a result of the uncharacteristic bonding; however, Nottingham's aura was like sitting in front of a fireworks display.  Ian's intense need, the Master determined was definitely for the Divine One's welfare.  He knew that Samsara may have overextended herself, and the fact that Ian "knew" this and wanted to help was remarkable.  Very few who had the "Power" to _see_, had the guts to make a positive difference.  His morning meditation had suggested that Samsara's "student" be made aware of what may lie ahead and spoke the words that would trigger the young man's conscious.  

"There is a slight problem," he paused.  

"What problem?"  Ian felt as though he were going to crawl out of his skin.  He had no fear for his own life, but she…He stopped in mid-thought, _she was important to him.  As he considered this, he realized it had nothing to do with the bindings.  He looked up into the Master's eyes, and understood that he had stepped into a contest.  It was a confrontation that Sam had designed to aid in freeing __him.  He took a deep breath to help compose his thoughts._

"What problem?"  He was steady now, and would take full responsibility for his actions.  This had been his decision, not orders.  His actions, he rolled that over his tongue like a rare piece of hard candy.

The Master gave him a conspirator smile, "You will need to trust me, by taking me where she is located, so we can reinvigorate her." 

Ian felt the truth and the conviction in the Elder's tone.  He wondered if Sam's Master was this forthright.  He felt as if he had been locked in a dark closet and was now free to explore the world by the light of the sun.  Ian assented, "What do you need me to do?"

"First, you will need to remove your gloves; our hands must touch so you can take me to Samsara.  Second, you will be my anchor back to this side."  He paused, debating with himself.

"What's wrong?" asked Ian.

The Master sighed, "Ian, you must promise never to touch Samsara while wearing your leather gloves."

Ian looked puzzled, "Why?" He noticed the old man's reluctance.

"Samsara had an unusual vocation before she came to the Order.  Let's just say, the gloves are a stark and painful memory of that part of her life."  Sadness crossed the old man's face, and then he looked at Ian, "don't mention this conversation, please."

It was as though a brutal hand gripped his insides; someone had dared to hurt Sam.  He could not comprehend how anyone could harm someone as kind and loving as she.  The mere thought of anyone injuring Sam was like waving a red flag in front of a bull; it was a deadly challenge.  He would find them and make sure they received the treatment they had given her.

Watching the young man's aura was like watching a fireworks display, the Elder was amazed to see Ian's range of emotions.  It was apparent to the Elder that Samsara had liberated and infused the man sitting before him.  As he observed the blaze of colors, he was drawn to an unusual spark he'd never witnessed.  Memorizing the frequency and color, he would confer with his Brothers later to determine its import. 

Remembering his reason for seeking the Elder, Ian concentrated on the task at hand.  He inhaled deeply and then slowly exhaled, trying to purge the negative thoughts from his mind.  Somehow he knew this was an important part of many rituals, especially now. He removed the gloves, taking care to replace his heavy-set ring back on his finger.  Presenting his hands to the Master he said, "I am ready." 

The Master moved his chair closer to Ian, settled into the seat.  He then took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.  He extended his hands, palms up to Ian, turned slightly so that he would be able to hold Ian's hands.  He had not traveled the 'planes as often as the younger generation of Brothers.  Traveling, he thought should be done on a plane or a ship; however, he appreciated having another option in case of emergencies.

"Place your hands on top of mine."  He nodded as Ian tentatively put his bare hands on his.  The Master noticed Nottingham start slightly as he carefully closed his hands around Ian's.  He and Sam would be able to help each other in overcoming their personal burdens and grow stronger together.  Their troubles were much like minefields, in a sense, that cluttered many paths to complete enlightenment, he thought.

"Now Ian, I want you to close your eyes and relax.  You will feel a shift, when you do, focus on locating Samsara.  I will supply the energy for this astral trip."

*****

Ian closed his eyes and mentally sought the strong silvery braid that bound him and Sam.  He felt as though he had become engulfed in a dense fog.  Anxiety started to weave its way into Ian's senses; he seized the cord before despairing.  A physical jolt dissipated the fog and he was aware of the Master's presence.  After following the braid for a few minutes, he and the Elder were "standing" on the dark beach with only stars as their light.

Ian heard several growls in front of the two of them.  He speculated they were about ten feet away from Sam.  Trying to sound unaffected by the growls he called out to Mac.

"Mac!  It's Ian.  I have come with the Master of the Zen Monastery to help Sam."  Ian pitched his voice confidently, hoping Mac would tell the beasts to desist.

"Well Lad, whut do ya think yore doin'?" questioned Mac.  "I thought you had yore own **_Lady to keep watch and protect."_**

He was still feeling sullen in spite of the fact Sam had explained about 'Destiny'.  Mac could tell his Mistress was smitten but wouldn't acknowledge it because _Ian's Destiny was to be with someone else.  __PickinSkempts__, he thought__._

Ian was bewildered by Mac's statement and tone.  Had he unknowingly upset Sam?  He thought she understood.  It didn't help that he was questioning his future.  Did she foresee something? He knew he couldn't stand to lose Sam.  What was he to do?  

"Mac, I am Master Lee of the Zen Monastery in New York."  He directed his voice to the darkness, where things still growled warily.  The old man had not made many astral trips, but he knew that assisting a new Divine One was paramount.  Even at this odd site, he had to remember all the Masters of each monastery entered a hive-mind state when they meditated.  What one knew, they all knew.  He drew on the collective consciousness and found the proper approach. 

Even from this distance he could see Samsara's weak aura.  The glow surrounding what he guessed were her Artifacts' auras blending in concert.  It reminded him of the Northern Lights, beautiful, but in this case, deadly.  

"Your Master's aura is very weak, Mac.  Please let me help her."  The sounds of the waves hitting the beach matched the hammering of his heart.  He had never dealt with an Artifact and now he faced many.  It seemed like forever before Mac replied.

"Very well, she is simply exhausted but come; you have no need to fear."  Mac was curious about the Master from New York.  He sounded sincerely concerned, and Mac knew many of the Masters were not comfortable traveling the 'planes.  His trip to help Sam was duly noted by Mac.

Mac could feel Ian's emotions, like the waves that beat against the shore and sprayed up over the rocks.  How could Ian be so insensitive to Sam, Mac wondered.  She would give her life for him; she had already put herself in a perilous position.  Mac noticed that Ian did not approach Sam.  Ian stood where he had landed; inadvertently proving to Mac that Sam was beneath his notice.  

"Ian, I could use your assistance," called the Elder.

"Don't bother," Mac said loud enough for Ian to hear.  "He thinks he is too good for Samsara.  He has his own _Lady."  Mac's harsh, accusing statement was said such that Ian had no doubt that Mac was insulted and inferred that Sam was also upset._

Ian was dumbfounded by Mac's accusation.  He believed Sam understood that he was "Destined" to be with Lady Sara.  Hadn't she?

Mac's aura was like an out of control fire; angry red streaks among orange and cinnamon flames engulfed the _Fae.  Ian started forward, hoping to discover why Mac was so angry and by the intensity of his aura, feeling betrayed.  As he approached, growls from the other Artifacts deepened.  He witnessed a flash of fangs, illuminated by the magical nature of the creature._

"Please ask your allies to allow Ian to assist in making her stronger so she may awaken to straighten out this misunderstanding."  The Master directed his request to Mac.

"From where I'm at', there's no misunderstanding." Mac responded, arms crossed in front of him.

"I need Ian to help me strengthen your Master.  Please let him come through," beseeched the Elder.  Master Lee did not understand why this Artifact was so insulted by Ian's presence.  It was possible that Ian had another path to follow, but that shouldn't put him at odds with the Divine One.

Mac was aware of the Master's need to help his Mistress.  His hostility toward Ian needed to be set aside, he knew that.  He also knew Sam would likely be hurt because Ian's loyalties lay with a woman who cared little about him and his duty to protect her.  

Emotion was Sam's weakness, he knew.  She would give him whatever he needed and more; when the time came to leave, Ian would be strong and have his _Lady.  _

As a tattoo, he was able to absorb her psychological patterns, in a sense, knowing her better than she knew herself.  Ian and his _Lady's relationship might end as it should, fulfilling their supposed Destiny.  However, Sam would experience the jolt of not being needed for the __First time.  Mac shuddered to think how Sam would truly accept it, as compared to how she would appear to handle the change._

"Come and help the Master," Mac acquiesced, "you will not be harmed."  Murmuring quietly, Mac was able to get all the Artifacts to subside.  He watched Ian approach apprehensively.  He still liked Sam's new student, but didn't like what was going to transpire.  His Mistress had enough pain and loss in her life; she didn't need any more.  He moved aside and let Ian step onto the rug.

As Ian got closer to the group, his memories of Sam were like images flashed on a screen.  He wondered if this was the beach of their first meeting; finding himself inside a stranger's body.  She just happened to be understanding, patient, and compassionate, he reflected.  Sam's openness coupled with returning him safely to his body and the fact she kept her promise to see him again seemed to set the manner of their relationship.  Appearing not by form, but voice and propelled him to save detective Woo's daughter, and her astral visit to the library where he got to actually see her highlighted his recollections.

Seeing her brought forth carefully saved images, a blue silk robe that was much too big, long blonde hair, high cheek bones, sparkling lilac eyes with her lips the purest color and texture of a blooming red rose.  She had a physically perfect attractive body.  No, he admitted to himself, Sam wasn't "attractive"; she was beautiful and absolutely graceful.  Then, he stopped before he stepped onto the rug and into the circle of Artifacts.  It was her physical presence that devastated Irons' and Immo's plan to reprogram him, severing Irons' bonds and giving him a chance to work toward being truly free.  

Ian's genetically enhanced sight adapted to the night's darkness. He stood by her, studying her from her feet to her face.  His eyes lingered at her waist; he could still feel her in his arms and her hands as they tenderly cradled his face as she spoke to him.  Delight and desire pulsed through his body by the memory.  Her voice so sultry and smooth, the way his very being welcomed it like warm, mulled cider on a winter's eve.  Examining her aura made him move quickly to her side and kneel close to her.  It was so faint; the only colors he could see now were the two bluish silver threads they had performed together and the intricately platinum braided bond of her to him.

The Master watched Ian start to approach the group slowly.  Even after the _Fae gave him permission, Ian did not rush.  Focusing on the young man's aura, he saw the turmoil Ian was experiencing.  He had no self esteem, however, a platinum thread the size of a heavy construction cable led from Ian to Sam, something significant had transpired between him and the Divine One.  A deep ruby-colored shimmer surrounded Ian like a cloak, indicating love was developing.  He determined the intensity of their relationship would be considerable due to the pristine red.  The Elder was curious about the __Fae's hostility and Ian's reluctance._

"We do not have much time," commented the Master as Ian gently took Sam's hand into his.

"What can I do?" Ian asked solemnly.  As he held Sam's hand, Ian received a tumble of impressions.  It ranged from space debris and objects crashing to images of a small, dark haired child holding the hand of _someone watching an ornate casket being lowered into the ground.  Dried tears stained the face of the boy while he clutched a somewhat bedraggled red rose._

"You must concentrate on your energy, see it as a ball of light before you," directed the Master, unaware that Ian was lost among the visions belonging to Sam.

A few moments passed and the Master did not see Ian attempt to call forth his energy.  He glanced at Ian who was lost in thought.  He did not see the _Fae move next to Ian's ankle.  Master Lee was about to address the kneeling young man again when Ian yelped in surprise and pain._

"What was" Ian started to ask, but Mac interrupted him.

"Either you are here to help, or you can go home," stated Mac.  He'd been watching Ian drift off and he was concerned what he might come across in Sam's memory.  Ian had already bound her without permission and Mac was going to see that Ian didn't happen to read her memories without permission.

Ian started and looked down at the angry _Fae_.  He was still confused by Mac's reaction to his presence.  Shaking his head, he brought Sam's hand up and brushed his lips across the ridge of her knuckles.  He noticed that her hand was cool, this minute detail bothered him.

Mac stood back after refocusing Ian's attention.  There was something dreadfully wrong with Ian and Sam.  He stalked to one side and looked at the couple again.  Frustration carved a furrow into his forehead.  Ian had traveled the astral plane with the Master, the Fae noted, which would mean… He smacked his head irritated that he could not discern the error that was before him.  

"Whatever I have, is hers," he declared.  Carefully, he sat next to her, edging her into his lap while still holding her hand.  Closing his eyes, Ian heard the surf batter the beach.  Reaching inside to a place he'd created as a child to hide and store precious memories, it developed and had grown with him.  Besides memories, it held energy he would call on when having to face Irons' wrath.  Imaging his energy was as a white electrical ball; he concentrated on shifting its position from inside onto the palm of his hand.

There was a gasp from the Master as he witnessed a softball of crackling light appear on Ian's hand.  Collecting himself, the Master proceeded to direct Ian on fueling the ball.  Urging Ian to add extra energy until it was the size of a basketball and to stop if he felt himself getting fatigued.  The _Fae's_ pacing was starting to distract his attention from Ian. The Elder had just finished explaining how the transfer was going to occur.

Ian cradled Sam's head in the crook of his right arm and was moving his left hand which had the energy ball balancing close to her Sahasrara, the crown of charka at the top of her head.  He was about to settle the ball onto Sam's head when Mac cried out.

"No! You can't do this."  He wailed as Ian ignored him and placed the ball on top of her head.  "You're on the astral plane, you can't, no shouldn't be touching her."  Mac could not comprehend how Ian was able to touch her from a different 'plane, it defied astral laws and the result would be disastrous.

The Master realized it a second too late.  He had accidentally discovered his being passed through the Artifacts as though he were a ghost.  Any questions were blown from his mind as Ian's energy exploded into a crackling milky sphere around him and Sam.  The Artifacts and the old man were thrown off the rug.

Ian paid no heed to the _Fae_ thinking he was continuing in bad mouthing his loyalty to Sam.  He didn't notice the blast that happened around him.  After the ball in his hand vanished, he used his free hand to pull Sam firmly, holding and rocking her in his lap.  Bending his head down, he brushed her forehead with his lips and tasted the salt from the ocean breeze.  He rested his lips against her forehead and held her tightly, as he shifted her to hold her as close as possible; she moaned.  The sound of her voice was the charge he could not deny.  Cradling her head in his hand he brought her to his chest; the glow from the sphere illuminated her face, making it truly appear angelic.  His desire was almost painful.  Deciding he may never have the opportunity again, he lowered his lips and kissed her.  His body tingled with Power, unknowingly opening himself to physically craving her touch, her affections.

A sigh escaped her and she tried to turn and be nearer to him.  A fire she had unknowingly started with their first meeting began to burn the rules and inhibitions Irons had instilled in him.  He gave up trying to conform to Irons' decrees regarding women.  Instead he traced his fingers down her forehead, temple, and high cheek bone and jaw line.  He bent over her memorizing the way she felt in his arms, how she had turned to him.  Perhaps, he thought, she could be his Destiny tonight.  Holding her tight, he bent and carefully brushed his lips over hers and slowly worked his way into kissing her gently and softly.  Moving his lips up her jaw line, he paused by her ear, kissing it lightly and then to her temple.  Her skin reminded him of a rose petal's velvet feel with a wispy jasmine scent, the ocean breeze's spray of salt made her taste memorable.  Her body arced in his arms which only heightened his longing for the love that permeated her spirit.

 As he pulled her closer, her arms went languidly around his neck.  She looked as though she were trying to force her eyes open.  Afraid she would push him away when she saw who it was, he tried to steal one last kiss. As their lips met, it was as though the energy of the sphere pulsed through their bodies.  He tried to keep his kiss soft, but her body reacted to his unspoken desire.  One of her hands tangled in his hair and pulled him till her body seemed to mold to his.  A groan came from low in his throat, and he clutched her firmly.  Their kiss was so intense it rivaled the ball of energy surrounding them.  He broke from the kiss and nuzzled into the crook of her neck, attempting to drink in her very essence.

"I wish to know about you," he gasped, "everything, from your distaste for gloves to the black spot on your aura.' He ran his hand down her long blonde hair, making sure his hand caressed her back.  He took a breath to announce his other 'wishes'.

"Don't say that," she forced the words, "not now."  Her body involuntarily responded to his hand stroking her back.  She tried to catch his lips to stop him from speaking, but he evaded her feeble attempt.

He felt loved.  He felt invincible.  "Yes, now!"  He said strongly in her ear. His arms were like bands of steel.  Power washed though him, a voice he didn't recognize spoke one chilling sentence.

"Be careful what you wish for."

The light surrounding Ian and Sam began to spin, flickering and picking up speed.  Sam tried to twist away from Ian; smells and sounds not of this time broke free of the blocks she'd so carefully built to vanquish her past.  She would have to face her demons, try as she could; the past was too overwhelming and the strength of it drew them into its control..  In order for Sam to shield Ian, she had to put herself between him and the atrocity.  She knew what she was about to face again, if he experienced it, would most likely ruin any hope of a relationship.  A sob escaped her throat, of all she'd been through, having him look upon her in disgust would break her heart.

Ian was buffeted from all sides by light, sounds and accosted by smells.  Holding tightly to Sam, he felt her try and push him toward an image of a safe haven.  When he continued to hold on, she shifted and tried to position herself to be a barrier.  What was she trying to protect him from? He wondered.  The currents of light and dark swept by faster, leaving him dizzy and confused.

*****

_It was dark and the room smelled of fear, sweat and drying blood.  He couldn't move his hands.  They had been tied and wired to the arms of a cold metal chair.  His back was aflame with indescribable pain and he could feel the blood drying, making him stick to the chair.  Ian realized a blindfold covered his face and a rag was stuffed in his mouth.  The smell and stickiness implied the restraint was held in place with duct tape.   He had to fight the urge to vomit, tasting bile in the back of his throat.  The gag assured he would suffocate.  His face felt as though it had been used as a punching ball, dried blood pulled the skin tight.  He tried to shake his head but couldn't.  ___

_Where am I?  What did I do?_ Ian tried to remember where he had been.  He wondered if this was a new kind of punishment that Irons had developed.  The room was dank and he heard sobs coming from behind, as if there were others locked in a nearby room.

_His left arm moved and excruciating pain assaulted his senses.  Darkness flitted across his limited vision.  He determined that his arm was broken.  His thighs, groin and anus were on fire and throbbed with pain.  Peering under in the blindfold revealed he, no she was saturated in blood._  **_Not his body, he'd been on the beach and then…_.**

Shock and horror filled him.  He tried to deny what he was feeling; tears ran down his cheeks as he held Sam on the beach.

_Ian huddled around Sam's **Muladhara**, her first charka, survival instincts._

 Information he'd received from binding with Sam filtered into his consciousness.  A knot hardened in his gut as comprehension slithered in like a viper into a sleeping bag.  

_Her head leaned back, shooting sparks behind her eyelids. The bindings! Looking down, his heart sank when he saw the blue threads taut.  The platinum cable that had tied her to him resembled a vapor, the possible implications chilled him.   He realized if he yelled and she heard him, she would believe she was loosing her mind.  Sam shifted slightly, her abdomen and groin felt as though they were pieces of broken crystal.  She winced but refused to make any sound.   ___

Thankfully he could not read her mind or she his.  He could not understand why anyone would commit such an atrocity, especially to Sam.  Forcing back the anger and the tears, Ian felt her resolve not to call or attempt to escape which bewildered him.  He wondered if this was the cause behind Mac's accusation that Ian would not have Sam for his _Lady._

Outside the glowing orb, Mac perched on the bear's shoulder and tried to make sure Sam was well.  He had the others were feeling distressed.  As Mac peeked , he watched Sam convulse as if in pain.  Ian was holding her, tears running down his face.  As quickly as his tears appeared, his demeanor changed into one of fierce anger.  Mac settled into the Bear's fur; it was going to be a long evening.  He glanced over his shoulder and saw the Elder endeavor to keep an eye on the imprisoned couple.

_He was distracted by a key being turned, and a door was flung open.  Sweaty bodies combined with the stench of rancid cigarettes, cigars and stale Old Crow announced the mens' arrival.___

_ The deep grumbling of coarse voices prompted her to steel herself for more brutality.  She could feel one of the men walk in front of her chair, and her limited vision allowed her to see worn, blood splattered boots.  Sam made no movement to acknowledge his presence.  Ian grasped that he was incapable to help, let alone, save her._

On the beach, Sam took a deep breath and tried to pull Ian mentally back to the comfort of her arms.  She murmured into his ear, while attempting to maintain her own composure.  Tears were her outlet for the pain, even now.

_Ian braced himself around her "survival chakra". ___

_A rough hand wrenched her blindfold off from behind, banging her head against the chair.  Standing in front of her was a heavy-set man dressed in black, a look of hatred on his face.  Ian recognized the sadistic glint in the man's eyes.  Ian recoiled involuntarily._

"_Bitch," the man said with a voice that had been abused by heavy drinking and cigarettes.  He backhanded the right side of her face with a heavily ringed leather gloved hand, splitting her lip under the tape.  Her head bounced against the metal chair.  Ian sensed Sam's spirit fade, leaving her body defenseless.  He couldn't understand why she refused to fight and searched his memory for any knowledge he'd received when binding with Sam to bring her back.   ___

_"Tell us what we want to know and maybe you will get out of this alive."  Grabbing the edge of duct tape, he ripped it and the rag from her mouth.  Blood gushed down her chin; the blood's metallic tang filled her mouth_. _Try as he could, he'd yet to make her scream.___

_Sam responded by spitting in his face, covering him in wet crimson.  He cursed as his men behind her laughed.  The next thing Ian felt was the beast savagely grabbing her throat in his gloved hand and slowly cutting off her air.  Something bit into her flesh, causing it to bleed._

_"Um-mm."__ Sam muttered, trying to move her head.  She knew a team was moving into place just as this Neanderthal was yammering at her.  Sam loved technology.  Her unpretentious' earrings had locators and a low frequency radio band that would give her a heads up when the __Calvary__ was about to join the fray.  Ian was filtering the images he'd picked up from Sam and knew enough that she was working for the government. ___

_He relaxed his grip a bit.  "Speak up."___

_Red suffused her enemy's face.  As he stood, he deliberately made a fist.  His dark eyes sparked in anger.  Before she could blink he hauled back and punched her between her legs, grinding his fist deeply and soaking up her blood_. 

_Sam's tormentor stood in front of her and held up his blood saturated gloved hand, wriggling his fingers and then wiping them on her face.___

Ian lurched with Sam in his arms.  Her arms held him and she flinched and muffled her cry into his shoulder.  She cursed herself for being weak, not being able to protect him and save him from the remembered abuse.

_"Zack, bring the kid out here."  He kept Sam's eyes locked on him and replaced his bloody hand around her throat, and continued to squeeze.  The smell of blood was sickening sweet._

_Sam was immobilized, but pulled at her restraints fighting the darkness which swirled as her arm and ribs shrieked.  Ian and Sam heard the frightened screams of a girl being dragged from the locked area._  

_"The little girl and I are going to have fun.  Like what you and I did before, remember?" She glared at him, furious at her inability to stop him._

Ian was stunned when he was bombarded by flashes of what Sam had endured.  Leather gloves appeared again and again.  Violated, abused and degraded by every man in the room, and the shame she felt.  He couldn't breath and did not know how to react to so horrific an experience.  Her fear for the child permeated Ian's consciousness.  Her words didn't reach him, all she could do was hold him until she found a way to return him safely back to the beach.

_"No," gasped Sam.__  "Leave her alone, take me, not her."  Ian cringed when he heard; he knew that she would give herself up to save the girl. _

More flashes, leather gloves holding her head, her arms and legs assaulted Ian and he was ashamed that he didn't have her selflessness.

_"Why I think she'd like to play," he removed his hand from Sam's throat and stroked her battered face.  "If she doesn't want to play then, I'll make her watch.  Won't that be fun?"  His laugh was as grotesque as his voice_.  

_Panic and fear for the child blended with Sam's feeling of helplessness.  Blood flowed freely, a coppery smell filled the air; this particular wound wouldn't kill her, yet.  He caught some of the little girl's blood and used it as a macabre hand lotion.  His hands dripping, he returned to Sam.___

_"I wanted to make sure that not all her blood was on my hands," he grinned malevolently.  The leather gloves were no longer black; they were crimson and he placed a hand on either side of her cheek.  He seemed to massage the child's blood into Sam's cheeks and then painted her lips with the remainder.___

Ian clutched the brown robe that Sam wore, physically still on the beach, but mentally in Sam's personal Hell.  One of his hands was tangled in her mass of silken gold.  She tried to coax him back, desperately praying he'd return unscathed.  Without realizing, she rubbed her face on his sweater, still having the sensation of blood on her face. 

_Sam recoiled at the touch of the dripping bloody gloves, loathing the feel and what it meant.  As he was gesturing to his men to move her to a chained pallet, the door exploded.  ___

  _Smoke instantly followed.  One of the captors grabbed and hurled the girl at the passageway; her screams added to the commotion.  Armored, masked men entered the room.  Using infrared, the incoming force picked off the four standing figures.  Shouts were cut short as bodies thudded to the floor._

_The man in black ducked behind Sam's sitting form.  Hit twice, he drew his pistol from his side holster.  As he prepared to kill Sam, one of the figures had circled behind and fired, scattering gray matter, blood and bone_.

_Sam sat in the chair, praying for a bullet to end her nightmare.  Instead, she was inundated with gore.  Tears coursed down her bloody face._ _She was deafened by the blast and gunshots._

_Two teams entered the room, one of the rescuers headed directly to Sam.  He took one look at her and called for a medic over his radio.  Another one of the group was calling for medical assistance to care for the child, who was sobbing.___

_"We've got the doctor and she needs serious medical attention."  The Kevlar armored man took off his face mask.  "Sam, we caught the other group.  You okay?"___

_Doctor, Ian wondered?  He was curious why she never mentioned her profession.  He debated with himself as to the nature of being a doctor, was she an MD or did she have a PhD.  Whatever she had, she must've been very young to achieve her goal._

_Sam jumped when her friend touched her gently.  She tried to focus on his face.  His luminescent blue eyes were filled with sadness and affection.  Her gaze went to his tousled black hair, and a detached smile tried to pull at the corners of her mouth.**  Boys playing army.**  Her thought was as lasting as her smile; it evaporated like the smoke from the room._

_The sounds of the units carrying out their tasks were muffled, as though her head was filled with cotton.  Ian didn't notice the commotion surrounding her.  He was impatient, wanting someone to free her.___

_"Oh God, Sam," he said.  The smoke was clearing and he was horrified to see she'd been violated and beaten.  A deadly strand of piano wire had been looped around_ _her throat like a noose.  "We're going to need wire cutters in here, pronto!" He practically spat into his mike.  "You're going to be just fine.  We have a chopper waiting."___

_"Family?" asked Sam, keeping eye contact.  "Matt, did they?" Tears silently slipped down her face.___

_Matt looked down, unable to speak.  He'd tried to convince the 'higher ups' not to uphold the MIA policy, but they would not listen.___

_She had her answer.  Squeezing her eyes tight, "Hey Matt?"  Her voice was barely a whisper.___

_"Yeah, Doc?"__ He tried to speak normally but his voice cracked.___

_"I'll take a cup of Hemlock, now."  ___

_"Not funny, Sam."__  Matt knew that tone and he wished he'd been the one in her place.  Of all the people he worked with, she was the best. ___

_"Look at me Matt."  Ian knew there was more to this conversation but he was lost.___

_Reluctantly, Matt met her bloodshot hazel eyes, framed in black and blue.  Her scalp was marred with bloody patches indicating where her captors had ripped out her hair.  He swallowed hard.___

_"I REALLY want the tea."  She watched him shake his head.  Slowly she started to pull against the noose.  The piano wire cut deeper into her neck, blood started to flow again.  Ian was aghast, she'd survived, why would she want to die now? Stop! He willed as hard as possible, hoping something would catch her attention.___

_"Sam, stop!" Matt forced his hands between the wire and her neck.  He attempted to loosen the loop.___

_Exhausted, she leaned back in the chair and stared at Matt's perfectly chiseled features.  Concern, fear and anger raced across his face.  She caught his eyes when he noticed she was watching him.___

_"Coward!" he hissed.  The word had more than one meaning between the two of them.  They'd used it on each other countless times.  It hurt him to say, but it was necessary.  His partner's life and mental state were on the line.___

_Ian was shocked and incensed.  A coward?  His vulnerability frustrated and angered him.  He felt Sam nod, and it perplexed him.___

_"Too hard Matt."__  Her crying was relentless, a sob made her gasp as her lungs encountered her bruised and broken ribs.  Sam watched him remove one of his hands away from the wire and patted his pockets for a handkerchief.___

_Matt was aware he had Sam's attention, and produced a fresh hanky with a flourish.  Knowing his partner, he proceeded to spit on the cloth and moved close to clean her cheeks.  Inwardly, he counted as he closed the distance.___

_"Touch my face with that and I'll take you with me," she growled.___

_Matt grinned, didn't even make to twenty, "That's my girl."  Shoving the offending cloth into a pocket, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.  "We'll get through this."  His eyes conveyed his sincerity as he met her gaze.  He stood when he saw another team arrive with wire cutters; he managed to wriggle his fingers into her hand so she could hold them.  Her weak tear stained smile clutched his heart. _

_ Ian wished he had some way of comforting her.  How many times had she gambled with her life and were there other situations where she'd been tortured?  His questions seemed to be an endless circle.___

Fighting a repeat performance, Sam surged forward holding Ian tightly, not wanting to be defeated by the horrors.  It was tougher than she thought.  Her memories were thinly veiled pockets of quicksand.  The harder she fought, the deeper she sank into the blackness.  _Not again!_

Mentally she called to Ian, hoping to get his attention.  The shriek of the past seared her nerves and she was blinded by the brilliant flashing light.  High winds yanked at her clothes and consciousness, threatening to drag Ian out of her grasp.

As she fell unconscious, they were both sucked into a vortex of extreme negativity.  Her pain, violation, humiliation were intensified, magnified and he experienced the entire episode.  He saw what she had tried to protect him from, using herself as a shield.  He also became conscious of the fact that she loved him.  Her feelings of failure, to protect the child and to protect him when he was the one who demanded to know.  Ian yearned to be back on the beach with his arms around her.  Tears and sobs were racking his body when he found himself clinging to her, experiencing the joy of her returned embrace. 

How could she stand to be around him, after enduring so much?  He closed his eyes holding her, one hand caressing her back and his lips pressed against her temple.  Her moan was soft as she tried to get closer to him and deny she'd had to not only relive her ghastly past, but subject a man with whom she was beginning to love.

*****

Her feelings of failure, humiliation and the horrors she faced _alone_ slammed against his psyche.  Ian only had a vague memory of what she lost.  She was willing to die after losing something which was rare and important.  She had had a family, was a doctor.  Her past, her life, she'd shared with him.  As they held each other, he was the first and only person she'd presented herself to.  How could he repay such a gift?  No answer was immediately available, so he held her. 

"I wish you hadn't experienced that."  She whispered.  Her hand was stroking and massaging the back of his neck.  "It was bad enough that I had to live through it once, but having you feel my failure."  She shook her head at a loss for words.

Ian felt the tears on her face and pulled back to kiss them away.  He did not mean to cause her pain and he had no idea how to comfort or lessen her guilt.  Looking into her eyes shining with unshed tears, he gently cupped her cheek and brushed her lips with his thumb.

"Sam," he looked down trying to find the right words.  A lock of long curly hair fell across his face.  He peered at her through his eyelashes.  "I'm sorry, I didn't know you would have to," his head dipped lower, "relive that horror."   He closed his eyes doubting if she would have anything to do with him after this.  A lone tear trickled down his cheek and he dropped his hand away from her.

He jumped when he felt Sam catch the vagrant lock of hair and sweep it off his face.  Her hand then slipped down his cheek to his jaw.  She continued to stroke and knead his neck with her left hand, while caressing his face with her right.  He noticed her sliding closer, tipping his head forward and she rested her forehead against his.  Her sultry voice was barely a whisper.

"I understand why you don't want to look at me.  I should have never put the child in harm's way.  I was weak.  I share your disdain regarding that incident.  My incompetence barred me from ever seeing or speaking to my husband and children.  They believe I am dead which is not far from the truth.  For a short time I felt needed and wanted.  You gave me that chance and for that I thank you."

Ian didn't understand what she was saying. He opened his eyes and saw incredible sadness, more than any one person should ever have to experience.  Shaking his head, he refused to accept her words.

"No," he stated flatly.  "It was wrong for me to pry.  You've been through so much…" his voice cracked and he could not find the words.  Instead, he gathered her into his arms and held her tightly, his eyes squeezed shut.  "Not going to let you go," he murmured into her ear.

Sam felt his body quake from his quiet sobs.  Her body was enfolded in his strong grip.  It had been so long since she had been held.  Her right hand played with his wavy hair; she couldn't resist planting light kisses on his forehead and down his temple.

"Ian, you have to let go."  Noticing the crackling sphere for the first time, she laughed softly.  "Did you realize we are encased in a ball of light?  How did you do that?"

He looked around, blinking against the illumination, while keeping her in a unyielding hug.  Ever so slowly, he released his grip and she sat next to him amazed at the glow.  

"The Elder," Ian said worriedly.

"Mac," Sam called, "is the Elder with you?"

"Yes Lass," came Mac's relieved response.  "He's looking a bit pale."

Sam started to stand; Ian was instantly up and helped her to her feet.  She thanked him with a smile and approached the edge of the luminous orb.

"Bring the Elder here, to the sound of my voice."  She could vaguely make out shapes on the dark side.

"Samsara? I am Master Lee from the Zen Monastery."  The old man called as he reached the area where he heard her voice.

"Master Lee, I am going to pass you an energy ball to sustain you while Ian and I figure out what happened."  Holding her hand in front of her she created a golden ball of light, and then pushed her hand through the field Ian had created and sensed it infusing the Elder.

"Mac, take the Elder and half of the group to the hut and make him some tea, please.  The power he accepted from me will allow him to interact on this 'plane."  Sam cocked her head waiting for Mac's reply.

"Are you sure Lass?  The Lad seemed very uncertain that he wanted to help you.  I think he might want to be getting back to his _own Lady._"  Mac's tone was definitely distorted, clearly implying that he was displeased with Ian.

Ian's temper flared but he didn't have a quick retort.  He looked at Sam and she just shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the remark.

"Master Lee, are you feeling better?" Sam inquired.  She was watching Ian who acted as if she were going to vanish.  He observed every move she made.  Sam offered him her hand.  He seized it and pulled her back into his arms.  His actions almost made her laugh.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you."  The Elder hesitated before asking his next question, looking around at all the creatures that had been keeping him company.  The _Fae_ had been telling stories to pass the time, and maintain the Elder's positive mood. 

"We'll take good care of the Master, till you fix Ian's mistake."  Mac interjected; sure his barb would find its target.  Mac turned to the Master, created a small globe of luminosity to lead the way and ushered the Master to the hut. 

Sam heard the Elder and some of her Artifacts head toward the beach shelter, leaving some of her Artifacts to prowl outside the radiance.

"Now, how did you do this?"

She turned in his arms and felt his motion rather than seeing it.  Sam tried to look beyond the sphere; her view was obscured by the glow.  Sighing, she sat down, and tugged Ian's hand to join her which he did gladly.  Leaning against him, she studied the area.  Ian sensed she was chilled and wrapped his arms around her.    

"I don't know," he admitted.

Ian studied the beautiful woman in his arms, wishing he had the ability to dress her in silks instead of the coarse brown robe she wore.  He tried not to compare Sam with Sara; his training specified that he had to protect the Bladewielder.  Irons' carefully instilled lessons were fraying; the Destiny he'd created for Ian was turning to dust.  Ian drew her near; he determined her kisses were addictive and decided to indulge himself.

*****

Ian stopped.  Sam noticed a loud ticking behind her.  Squirming, she was able to get out of Ian's grasp and turn toward the sound.  A familiar face, decked in a loud Hawaiian print shirt, lederhosen, cowboy boots, Rastafarian dreadlocks and a fuzzy British Queens' Guardsman hat perched precariously on his head stood expectantly in front of her.  A large handlebar mustache sat on his upper lip and he smiled widely.

"Tick-tock," he said and winked. "I've brought a few _Others_ to meet you."

Sam put on her best diplomatic face and nodded politely to _Time_.  "Long time no see."

That struck _Time_ as incredibly funny and it took a few moments to get his snorting laugh under control.  Between gasps for air he gestured to a striking bald Black Individual dressed formally in black tails, dark purple cummerbund with gold Infinity symbols which flickered.  The bow tie matched the cummerbund; the tux shirt was so white it gleamed.

 "This is Destiny." 


	11. Chapter TenTo be As One

_Please RR; there are some twists coming up and want to have_

_Some input regarding the characters paths. (wink)_

****

**_Chapter Ten…_**_'To Be As One…___

_"Love is what you've been through with somebody."_

_                                             James (Grover)Thurber_

 "This is Destiny."

Destiny bowed, "I've heard many interesting things about you."  His grin indicated he enjoyed what he'd heard.  He rubbed his large manicured hands together in anticipation.  

Sam matched his grin, "Really, whatever you have heard, multiply by a zillion and you'll have a better idea of the truth." 

Destiny laughed loudly, "I look forward to working with you." 

"Oh, didn't you know, I don't play well with others."  Sam watched his eyes sparkle.  Behind him, she watched Time move next to Destiny's huge form and they advanced toward her and Ian.

"Oh, I told him, but he didn't believe me, "a rattling voice replied from behind her.

Sam turned, "Hey, Dead Man Stalking, what's shakin'?"  She glanced over at Destiny and winked, "Dem Bones, perhaps?"

The energy ball was still intact and seemed to pulse brighter as the Incarnations entered, she noticed.  Reaching down, she ran her fingers through an unmoving Ian's hair.  She hoped he was unaware of the events happening around him, the flood of Power was staggering.  

Death approached her; a subtle rattling noise came from his heavy black hood.

"If I didn't know that 'death rattle' was your laugh, I'd tell you to see a Doctor," Sam chided, extending her hand and flicked his cloak.

Time groaned, "There's a couple more.  This is Gaia."

A plush woman, whose hair was black as fertile soil and eyes of Amazon green had a voluptuous body stood just behind Death.  Her skin was the color of fresh cream and just as smooth.  Her dress appeared as a mountain scene that magically cycled through the change of seasons.  Breezes seemed to gust from her physical landscape, icy cold for winter and warm for summer.  At first glance, she appeared to have various leaves tattooed on her body.  Closer inspection revealed the plants were real and fluttered as she curtsied to Sam.

"Divine One, this promises to be a wondrous union."  Her plump smile filled the glowing area with vigor.  Nodding at Ian, "The young man who has chosen you is very attractive.  The two of you will work well as one."  She ended her comment with a suggestive wink.

"Gaia, please call me Sam.  We don't stand on formality here.  And this young man is Ian.  He happened upon me by chance.  Once he is freed, he will be 'working' for someone else."  Sam looked around at the Incarnations.  "I know I'm going to have more platinum in my hair", she sighed and looked at Time.  "Anyone else?"

"I am here."  A deep bass resonated though Sam's bones.  Turning to her right, she had to look up to see a fierce, bearded face.  His body was pure muscle; the color of tanned leather.  He held a two handed sword in one hand and a double bladed ax in the other.  Thickly braided hair reminded Sam of a freshly minted penny and his eyes were melted chocolate.  Sam noticed that he wore a chain mail over a cotton padded shirt.  His leather pants were stained and well worn.

"And you are?" she prompted, feeling very small and frail next to him.

"War," was his gruff reply.  "Based on the others' I offer my sword and ax, and will be honored to fight with or for you."  The huge man kneeled at Sam's feet after presenting himself as respectful as possible.

"Thank you War."  Sam shook her head, "Please rise."

"The young… I mean Ian is a talented warrior.  He was wise to chose you as his companion.  Together you will be unbeatable."

"Perhaps you didn't hear me; Ian will be 'working' and a 'companion' to another."  Again she turned to Time. "Is that all?"

Time gestured to the man who had appeared next to Sam's left elbow.  She jumped, missed tripping over Ian and accidentally bumped into Death.

The man standing next to her was drop dead gorgeous.  He reminded her of the Adonis statue, muscled, tanned and flawless.  His eyes were a disconcerting green with gold specs and his hair was wavy, auburn with stunning red highlights.  Trying to catch her with his eyes and cast his 'net', believing she would swoon into his arms.  Love waited to sweep her into his grasp and hold her against his bare chest.

"I am the male half of Love."  His voice was sensuous and inviting.  "You are more beautiful than Time and Death described.  You would make a perfect 'Love'."

Sam stepped back, putting Death between her and Love, and caught her breath.  "Thank you."  Her voice was disbelieving and weak.  "Besides the fact you need glasses, will someone please tell me what's happening?"

A murmur went through them.  Sam saw 'Love' make his way to Ian; he squatted next to the motionless man and began to whisper.  Love waved a hand over the crown of Ian's head, and Sam watched him blink code-like to Love.  Sam tried to maneuver through the Incarnations to find a way to reach Ian.  The others crowded around her and tried to all speak at once.  A spark of alarm rushed through her as she noticed the Incarnations were providing a perfect barrier, making it impossible to reach her immobile friend.

"Wait, Time would you please explain."  She requested, holding her up her hand for the others to refrain from talking.  Her eyes never left Ian and Love.  Love was animated yet his voice was pitched low enough that it could not be heard by anyone except Ian.

Nodding, Time stepped next to Sam.  "This concerns Ian's Destiny."

Destiny stepped over to the other side of Ian and waved at Sam.  He too, squatted down and joined the "conversation" with Love speaking to Ian.

"Throughout history, this man's Destiny has been manipulated by many ruthless individuals.  An upcoming disaster for the human race in imminent and his Destiny must not be thwarted."  Sam observed Time gesturing a great deal with his hands; she couldn't help but wonder if he'd be able to communicate if his hands were tied.  Blinking, she forced herself to focus.

"And this is important to me because…?"  She queried.

"Yours is the back he must protect; he is the warrior half that will complete your diplomatic and healing skills."  Time balled his right hand into a fist and punched it into the palm of his left hand to emphasize his statement.

"Not him," said Sam, "He is destined to help the 'Bladewielder."  She had to bite her lip in an effort not to smile at Time's gesticulations.

"Not true," responded Destiny, "there is another more qualified to support and protect the Wielder."  The infinity symbols glittered as he moved to hold his hand over Ian's head, just brushing Ian's aura and making it shimmer with many of his golden glyphs.  Ian remained still, making no blink or other move at Destiny's comment.

"I don't think I can change his mind."  She offered, hoping that Ian wasn't being harmed with all the Power that surged and slapped the glowing field surrounding them or insulted by Destiny's comment about 'a more qualified' person to protect the Wielder.

"You don't have to.  The situation is similar when you gained your Artifacts.  Your partner will choose you."  Destiny's voice took on an all-knowing inflection.

"So why are you here?"  Sam looked at the sea of faces.  "And in case Time, Death and Evil didn't tell you, I don't appreciate that 'all knowing Oz tone'.  Understand?"  She glared at all the new faces, not at all intimidated.

Death and Time exchanged glances; even outnumbered she had no fear.  She had become their favorite topic.  Discussing how far she had come, the fact she was willing to work _with_ the Incarnations would make a positive situation on so many 'planes.  They knew she would deny Ian's role in her future.  Convincing her otherwise was the challenge.  Time passed his hand over his mouth, hiding the grin that threatened to escape.

"You need to accompany him back to the past.  He needs to see how he was, and learn how he has been changed."  Time stated with his over-sized hat nearly falling from its perch.

"You will be in contact with a special guide."  Added Death, his skeletal hand touched her arm.  During the moment he touched her, a transformation took place.  While he was in physical contact, sinews whipped over his bare bones, tissue oozed from the strands, blood vessels appeared wrapping among and through the tissue.  Lastly epidermal tissues emerged with brown body hair.  His visage took on a living, breathing handsome man form.  Shocked he started to pull his hand away but she grabbed it.  Meeting his grey, surprised eyes, she smiled.

"And that would be?"  She was getting tired of playing twenty questions, but Death's unexpected change perked up her interest.

"His grandmother."  Death and Time spoke in unison.  "You will need to return him to a specific 'plane."

Most of the other Incarnations moved closer to see the "new Death".  They muttered among themselves how nothing like this had happened with other Divine Ones.  Death thought to himself, _none of the other Divine Individuals would allow themselves to be touched. _  Love and Destiny remained near Ian.

Sam sighed gave Death's hand a gentle squeeze, shifted her position and gave him a peck on his cheek.  He almost stumbled back in surprise.

"Nice to see you in the flesh," Sam wiggled her eyebrows at Death and beamed.  "We'll have to do this some other time."

Death blushed profusely and drew back, breaking contact with Sam.  He yanked his cowl about his face, expecting to hear her laugh.  He peeked out at her when she didn't.

_"I'm Sorry."_ She sent to him mentally, "_I didn't mean to embarrass you."_

Death felt her sincerity and warmth.  Had they been alone he would have loved to receive a hug from her.  He looked at Ian's 'frozen' form; he was beginning to understand why this young man wanted her.  

"Bring it on and let's finish it."   _Before I upset someone else,_ she decided.  After her recent journey, all she wanted to do was pamper herself with a hot bubble bath.  _Not in this lifetime,_ she reflected.

Drawing himself to full height, he sought the eyes of all the Incarnations.  The Incarnations communicated silently to each other.  They were satisfied.

"You will be instructed, step by step.  Most of us will remain, you will see us."  Said Death.

"Your young man _will_ see me, since he's familiar with my presence.  Love will be visible as well, to help explain the sensations he will be experiencing and what his proper reactions should be." interjected Time.  "We believe you will be able to convince him to agree to travel with you on this trip."

"He is not _my _young man," she objected.  "His name is Ian.  _What is_ 'Love' saying to him?"  Sam asked concern evident in her voice.

Destiny smiled, "Love is just giving Mr. Nottingham a few, umm, pointers."

"Pointers?"  Apprehension wormed its way into her being.  The idea of 'Love' instructing Ian left her shaken.  Keeping Ian at a distance, physically and emotionally was difficult.  Her attraction to Ian had begun to slip into the emotional chasm of love.  She had to keep reminding herself that he was "spoken for" and had given his loyalty and love to another woman.  Knowing the inevitable instilled her with an inescapable sadness.  Tearing her gaze from Love and Ian, eyes burning from unshed tears, she refocused on Time.

 Very well, I will do what I can to help him."  Suddenly Sam found herself in Ian's arms as though nothing had occurred.

"We are set to begin," announced Time.

Ian glanced in the direction of the voice and recognized the fashion-challenged man.  He hadn't felt or heard him enter the orb.  Turning his attention to Sam, who he held possessively, and considered, required more kisses.  A few lingering kisses later he could tell by the way her body shifted that he needed to give her another type of attention.

He gazed into Sam's wide lilac eyes.  He felt her heart and breathing were quick.  Her desire for him was palatable, and he realized he _wanted_ her.  Her demeanor informed him that he'd missed something.  Before he could ask, she cleared her throat and steadied herself.

"We have something important to do."  Sam addressed Ian as soon as he was aware and looking at her.

"What is it," asked Ian.  Kissing her throat and running his fingers up her spine, made her squirm closer to him.

"I'm not sure, but it does require 'travel'." Sam placed her hands on either side of his face.  "Will you trust me?" _He's tasted Power,_ she thought to herself.  _And he likes it,_ trying to keep a moan at bay, unsuccessfully.

"With my life," he said sincerely, and then kissed her with so much love it left her breathless.  Ian held her and caressed her back and nibbled on her ear.  "Do with me as you will," His voice was affectionate and sensuous.  Ian knew what he offered; he never thought he would ever find someone he would trust with his life, let alone his soul. 

Squeezing her eyes tight, she tried to keep her imagination under control. Her mind wanted to twist his acceptance into numerous romantic connotations and combinations.

"I know it's _hard_," whispered Love into her ear, counting on the double entendre to make her jolt.

Sam pulled away from Ian, her face blazing and turned in the direction of the voice she'd heard.  

_"Appear, damn you."_ She directed her thought at Love. _"Now!__ Or I will drag your Being Physically into this 'plane."_

Ian was startled by Sam's surprised reaction.  He was amused by her blush and turned on by her anger.  He could not understand the fury in her eyes as she sought the area around them.  Suddenly a man appeared to her right with a pleased smile on his striking face.  He bowed very low to Sam, and remained in his acquiescent position waiting to be acknowledged.

_"I suggest you introduce me as an associate, instead of an Incarnation.  Unless, you want your boyfriend to have a platinum streak as well."_  Love replied mentally.  

Gritting her teeth, Sam turned to a baffled Ian and rested her hand on his arm.

"Ian, this is a new associate that will be helping us."  She kept her voice neutral.  _"He's Not my Boyfriend,"_ was her telepathic strike at Love.

Sam's aura was violently radiating every color of the rainbow, nearly giving Ian a headache.  He noticed her two "associates" did not seem to display auras which piqued his interest.

"Your associates," he gestured to Time and Love, "what are their names?"  He studied Love, wondering why Sam was so infuriated at him.  It relieved Ian to see Sam angry at the handsome, new arrival.  Any man would feel insecure standing anywhere remotely close to Love.  Physically perfect, and his manners were flawless, noted Ian and Sam wasn't captivated.  He'd begun to think of Sam as his, when he was with her he felt _complete_.

The ticking man joined them as Sam was getting set to introduce them.  Time tugged one of his Rasta-braids and raised an eyebrow.  She sighed, _couldn't they understand that 'she got it'."_

"Ian, I'd like to introduce you to Thing One," she gestured to Time, "and Thing Two." She pointed at Love when she said Thing Two, who looked mortified.  Sam began to get to her feet, but Ian was up instantly and assisted her.  She thanked him with her smile.  

Ian cocked his head to the side and looked at her, when he first met her she had one platinum streak, after the incident in Immo's lab she'd gotten two more.  As he observed her hair, it looked like a living entity; more platinum streaks seemed to glide among her golden tresses.  After a few moments four new streaks the color of summer lightening blazed among the gold.

Curiosity got the better of him and he gestured at her hair, "I just saw your hair color change.  Why?"  His question worked on so many levels, but he didn't want to upset her and be specific.

Sam looked at the rug as she wriggled her toes into its' plush texture.  She glanced sidelong at him, "I guess you could call them badges of courage or," she stared at Love, "or badges of stupidity.  But they're a part of me now."  She sighed.

"They, and Others, who do not wish to be seen, will be helping us with our next task."  Moving close to him, Sam took and kissed the back ofIan's hand.

Ian caught the annoyed flicker in 'Thing Two's' exceptional green eyes, and a sense of satisfaction washed through him.  It was clear that 'Thing Two' was not used to being dispatched so casually by women.

"What is the task?" Using the hand Sam was holding, he gathered her to him.  She didn't resist and he had her close enough for him to steal a kiss.  When they broke reluctantly from the kiss, he saw her blush slightly.  He noticed her aura was coated with ruby red sparkles; realization was like a blow, taking his breath.  _She loved him._

Time stepped up to Ian, "The task is going to require a significant amount of power that will need to come from the two of you working together."

"Sam's power is primarily based on her capacity to love."  Love shrugged off his disappointment of not causing Sam to fall into his arms.  Instead, he reasoned, he'll make sure she'll fall into Ian's arms.  _Not her Boyfriend. Ha!_

"Physical contact will be very important."  Love smiled encouragingly at Ian, "You will need to remove your sweater and t-shirt."  Love glanced at Time, "I think its warm enough in here, don't you?"

A thoughtful look crossed Time's face, "Yes, I think it's perfect.  No drafts.  Mr. Nottingham, I believe you should be comfortable."  Time and Love looked at Ian expectantly.

Sam was observing the by-play between Time and Love, not trusting what she was hearing.  _Physical contact?__  What were they up to?_

Ian waited for Sam to voice her opinion, when she didn't he brought up her hand and brushed it with his lips.  Concentration broken, he gazed into her lilac eyes, questioning.  Any reason to be physically close to her was welcome, he considered.

After glancing at Time and Love again, she nodded.  "If they say it needs to be done, I guess we better do it."  Her position and words were solemn, "Do this _only_ if you are comfortable; I never want you to feel obligated or in a position where you want to say no."

The genuineness of her words resonated throughout his being.  If there had been any doubt before, her words erased it.  _I love her, _he drank her in with his eyes, and soon he would have her in his arms.  He kissed her hand one more time and took off his sweater. Love took it and draped it over his arm.  Without hesitation, Ian peeled of his t-shirt and handed it to Love. 

Sam couldn't breathe.  Ian's physique rivaled Love's.  Solid pectoral muscles rippled across his massive chest.  His body invited her to run her fingers in his black, curly chest hair and follow it down his washboard abs, where the hair disappeared under his waistband.  Mentally she cursed Love and Time.  Excusing herself from the men, she turned and walked a short distance.  Love must've known about her weaknesses, the hollow of Ian's throat pleaded for kisses.  Sam wanted to massage his muscles, tease him with light kisses and watch his eyes light up knowing and feeling loved.  She wouldn't be able to assist, let alone finish the task.

"Yes, all of us are aware of what you deem 'weaknesses." Said Death's familiar voice.  "It is necessary that you indulge your 'failing', it will help to generate the Power that is required for the two of you to travel."

Sam closed her eyes, "Do you realize what you're telling me to do?  It isn't fair to him.  He wouldn't get the delight and the gratification.  It's cruel."

"Now, now dear," was Gaia's disembodied reply.  "He'll have the enjoyment and the fulfillment, without the mess." She chuckled, "We Incarnations have to be good for _something._"

"I suppose the _difficult_ part for you would be to put up with his inexperienced kisses."  Destiny interjected with a laugh.

"I don't find this amusing", countered Sam.  "You're telling me to lead this man on and that's not right."

"You're not leading him on, child," explained Gaia.  "You love him; give him the chance to feel what it's like.  Besides his freedom, there is No greater gift."

Sam looked up at the luminous orb.  Her cheeks were wet from her silent tears.  She'd only known one man, and it never occurred to her that she'd lose her heart so easily.  _He deserved better, someone beautiful and young_.

"Come with me child," Gaia's soft voice was conspiratorial, and she moved away from the male Incarnations.

The tone of Gaia's demeanor drew a bewildered Sam to Mother Nature's side.

"It is important for you to understand complications and truths about what you face."  The abundant woman stared into Sam's amethyst eyes, instilling the sense of intensity and veracity she was about to impart.  "Your young man," she put her hand up to halt any rebuttal from Sam, "Ian needs to make this journey.  You _must_ reveal love by your actions.  He has never been with a woman, Divine One.  Your love, compassion and sincerity are what he needs, especially for his first time.  He has only experienced the evil, your rape and he fears he will harm you."

"What?" Exclaimed Sam, disbelieving, "But he's gorgeous, I don't…  Oh no!" She glanced over at Ian with Time and Love, comprehension regarding Ian's situation became apparent and it her blood run cold.

"The monster that was controlling him didn't…"  Her words trailed off, and she sank dejectedly onto the sand.  An indescribable sadness washed through her.  She hadn't noticed, to hell with the fact she was new at this, there had to have been a clue.

Rustling, the female Incarnation sat across from her Celestial One, reached over and patted the back of Sam's hand.  As if reading the depressed woman's mind, she answered the unspoken question.

"No, my Blessed Lady, there was nothing for you to detect.  However, _You_ have the ability to show him the way sex is supposed to be like.  At least, grant him that kindness."   Taking a breath, she continued.  "There is something else you must know."

"Hey, don't stop now, Gaia; hit me with your best shot."  Sam mumbled miserably.

The Earth Mother's lips twitched into a grin.

"Remember the lightening strikes while you were training and you sort-of changed?"

"Remember?  I still have flashbacks." replied Sam sarcastically.  "Fall asleep and find myself in strange places, healing, foreseeing things that Superman would be hard pressed to intercept, oh and don't forget blowing up satellites.  Only a minor change."  She tilted her head, "What, am I growing a second head?"

"Well there is some good news," she hinted.  Her green eyes twinkled mischievously.   When she saw Sam wasn't going to rise to the bait, she was slightly disappointed, but continued.

"You no longer look like a sixty-five year old woman." Gaia practically burst.

"No, I look like some freak with butt length, yellow hair with freaking living platinum streaks.  And it won't stay short after I cut it all.  Bing, next day, it's like I never chopped it.  I'm thrilled."  Her voice dripped sarcasm like venom.

The beach shook with Mother Nature's peals of laughter, "No, you are younger.  Well, look younger."

Sam narrowed her eyes as she glared at the pleased Incarnation.  "Right."  Her attitude clearly indicated her doubt.  

Waving a hand over the sand in front of Sam, Gaia created a still, reflective pool. The light from the sphere radiated the necessary light.

 "Look."  She instructed.

Skeptically, Sam leaned over and peeked into the small pond and glimpsed a stranger's face, with her facial expression and gold hair.  Her breath caught in her throat, instinctively she touched her face.  The stranger touched her face.  All of the color drained out of the face before Sam, and she sat back.  Black spots filled her vision.   _Oh, my god!_   She found herself meeting watchful eyes.

"When?" was all Sam could ask.

"A day or two after the lightening strikes and your face has not aged since," Said Gaia.

Stunned.  All that she was had been, was scrambled.  This really was another lifetime she faced.  Sam turned her attention to Ian.  His aura spiked; nervous, excited, traces of fear covered with the rich blood-colored sparkles of love.  She did owe him the "proper" way of knowing love.  Closing her eyes she admitted to herself that she loved him.  When the time came to let him go, she would.  Sam gave a sixty-five year old sigh and got to her feet.  No matter what lifetime, she reflected, she had to give up love.  _Not love, loved ones.___

Love was swaggering toward her, a roguish glint in his eye.  It didn't matter that she looked young, she felt ancient.

The lecture the two "Things" had been giving Ian turned into meaningless chatter.  He had ascertained they were explaining sex.  At which point, his body was present but his thoughts turned to Sam.  Sam had been walking slowly, as if listening to someone he couldn't detect, which frustrated him.  His heart lurched when he observed Sam sink wretchedly onto the sand.  Her aura had turned into grey and ugly, dirty colors of blue.  He got up to go to her but Thing Two barred his path.

"Samsara is being instructed by the Others.  There is no need for you to be concerned."  Thing Two addressed Ian's concerned expression.

"I won't do anything if it involves harming Sam." Ian flatly refused.

He saw her head tip to one side, as if her invisible companion was sharing confidential information.  He yearned to be by her side, believing together they could endure anything.  Suddenly her metaphysical appearance brightened.  The brilliant red glitter encompassing her lifted his spirits.

"Sam will not be hurt, nor will you."  This is an unorthodox trip.  Due to the precision needed for time placement and to reach the proper plane.  A large amount of power is necessary."  Love gave Ian an appraising look.

 "Ian, for the energy to build to the proper amount of Power, you will need to remove your pants.  Both of you will be _very _close; albeit you may wear your briefs."   Thing Two gave Ian a slight bow.

"Excuse me while I escort Samsara here, and we can get this trip started."  Love gave Ian a wink and swaggered to Sam.

"Do I really have to take off my pants?" Ian asked in a whisper.  He looked at Time, hoping that Thing Two was joking.

Time nodded, "You can look at it this way," he took a breath, waiting for _the_ question.

"What way?" Agitated, Ian asked.

A slow and wicked smirk slipped over his face, eyes twinkling, he held Ian's concentration.  "You will get to see what she looks like without the hideous robe."  He could see awareness smack Ian right between the eyes.

Sitting down, Ian started to untie his boots.  He kept surreptitiously looking at Sam.  He paid attention to her interaction with the alluring man who by his actions wanted a more definite relationship with Sam.  Ian's lack of self-confidence made him question what drew Sam to him, when this extraordinarily developed, intelligent man didn't stir her interest.  Ian could still feel her in his arms; the way they fit together.  Just thinking of embracing her made his heart race and brought a smile to his features.

Standing, he wondered how she would react, being intimate.  Flashes from her and his memory of what she went through, whipped before his eyes.  He didn't want to hurt her.  His body ached for her touch, but his fear was substantial.  Ian shook his head, his inexperience would make her laugh and he would certainly doubt his manhood.  He sensed Thing One shift, turning he observed Sam and Thing Two approach.

Even in the robe, her gait was smooth, reminding him of an advancing panther.  Effortless, she radiated strength, fluidity and Power.  The light of the orb cast a glow around her.  As he saw her approach, he thought he could hear her heart racing with his.  Each step closer made it unbearable to just stand there.  He wanted to feel her skin, kiss her shoulders and trace his way to her heart.  Jasmine and the salt air wafted to him.

Ian's qualms swirled like the waves dragging sand back into the ocean.  Such a beautiful woman and somehow he had stumbled into her life.  Viewing the beach illuminated by a mystical mishap, Ian tried to convince himself this was indeed happening.  _"There are no coincidences."_  A shudder ran up his spine.  He watched Samsara who resembled an angel more than an ordinary human and wondered what he'd done to be blessed.

Thing Two, stopped her and by the way he was moving his hands, Ian guessed Love was telling her she had to take off the monk's robe.  The perfectly built man did not dignify her protests by listening; he stood and held his hand out waiting for her to give him the robe.

Sam glanced up and saw that Time and Ian were patiently waiting.  _She thought about the travel that they would be doing.  It was for Ian's Destiny, _she reasoned, _maybe this will help him and then she could leave right after this was over, to avoid falling any deeper in love with him._

Sam glared at Love and then slowly pulled off the coarse brown robe.  Her cotton shift had gotten caught inside, she stood next to Love wearing a pink lacey camisole and matching bikini panties.  Rubbing her arms, not necessarily from the cold but in embarrassment, she tilted her head forward letting her longer than waist-length hair flow over her shoulders like a golden cape.  _At least it's good for something,_ she inwardly declared.

Ian held his breath as she removed her robe.  She had the physique of a dancer, no, a gymnast, he decided.  Her body reminded him of the Greek goddesses.  Her muscles conveyed her strength and it seemed as though her grace was innate.   Speechless, he observed her hesitation and then the angry look she gave each "Thing".

"I am well aware of what you _think_ will happen, however," she stared hard at Thing One then Thing Two, "it may not happen the way you think or have planned.  If you have a problem with this, speak up now."  Her voice was soft but her message was hard and sharp, punctuated by her stormy gray-purple eyes.

            Time looked surprised, but nodded.  "Of course, we'll just give you a few suggestions and then…"

            Sam didn't let him finish.  "Implant the coordinates; I know you can do that.  _If_  Mr. Nottingham and I are to "make this trip together", we should not have a problem.  If _Destiny_ is incorrect, then nothing will occur."

                "But with our help," Love stammered then Sam glowered at him, making him forget what he was going to add."

                "As you wish Div" Time started coughing from Sam's severe look.  "The time and 'plane have been submitted."  He backed away.  Sam closed her eyes and was able to make sense of Time's directions.

                Nodding, Sam opened her eyes, absorbed the mob surrounding her and Ian.  She held out her left hand to Ian, wondering if he really would take her hand and actually do the most outrageous thing anyone could imagine.  If he took her hand, and if Gaia was telling the truth, the thoughts made her heart hurt.  So many 'ifs', she didn't feel capable to be his first.  _How ironic, _her mind almost cackled, _he will be my **first** for this 'lifetime'._

                She started when he tenderly took her hand in his right.  Sam focused on the hand she was holding, looked up and met Ian's expectant gaze.  At that moment, she knew exactly how a deer felt when it was caught in a car's headlights.

                "All of you," she cast her voice at the "Things" and beyond to those Ian did not detect.  "Will leave now, even if it is to step outside of the sphere," Her voice was commanding and compelling.  The Incarnations who would have normally questioned her authority found themselves out and away from the glowing orb.

            The Force of her declaration caused the hair to rise on the back of his neck and arms.  Ian's emotions, intimidation, pride, and desire were in chaos.  Her strength invigorated him, stimulating and fanning the blaze she sparked within him.  Her light tug on his hand brought him face to face with her.  He studied her features, noticed how light and shadow rippled under the light of the orb.  Her forehead creased in thought.

                "Before we start _anything_, I must ask you a couple of questions," her lilac eyes were imploring.  "Please, be honest, and truthful, you might think it brutal but it essential that I know.  Okay?"  Her voice wavered but she set her expression as neutral as possible.

                Ian assented, a bit bewildered.  "I will speak truthfully."  He cocked his head and sort of grinned, "You'll know if I try to lie."

                His spirit lifted when she matched his smile.

                "Question number one," Sam intoned solemnly.  "What do you see when you look at me? Describe my age, features and anything you feel is important."  Sam watched Ian's aura spike twice then mellowed to his stable royal blue and silver colors with a netting of red crystals.

                For a moment Ian believed she was joking, but her stance and manner indicated she was truly concerned.  _How strange,_ he pondered.  He continued to hold her hand, except he turned her one way and then the other so he might give a clear description.  Ages, he hated guessing ages and he knew women were more upset if their age was in doubt.

                "Um, I would guess that you are in your early twenties, twenty-six at the most."  He winced waiting for the backlash that never came.  He let his eyes travel over her body; he almost reached over to touch her with his left hand but caught himself.

                Sam noticed Ian's aborted movement, and she smiled.  "Where were you going to touch me?"  She was pleased to see he was taking this seriously; it was all she could do not to hug him.

                "Your long, silky hair and then your arm," He traced his left finger down her arm, emphasizing her muscle definition.  Looking up shyly through his eyelashes, "Your body is amazing."  He pulled her close, their bodies inches from each other.  He brought his left hand up to tip her chin so he could read her soul.

            "I have never seen such beguiling eyes.  _You_ are the most beautiful woman I've seen."  A tiny voice brought up Sara's name, but Sam was in a league of her own.  Sam's body complimented her extraordinary soul, the hand he was using to hold her chin began to tremble.   "There are no words to adequately describe you."  He sensed he was disappointing her, and then he had a flash of inspiration, something he'd recalled when they'd tied the bindings.  "Look through my eyes, that way you can see as I do."

                Sam searched his eyes to verify his offer.  He meant it.  Part of her being wanted to leave her question unanswered, but she had to know if he was merely "putting up" with an old woman.  She took a deep breath and nodded.

                "I accept your generous offer," she responded.

                Ian took her free hand, "Ready?"

                She shook her head, "No, but…"  Before she could react she peered through Ian's eyes.

The sight of the woman standing in front of Ian was stunning.  The gold and platinum hair cascaded around her shoulders, enveloping her.  The body was that of a twenty-something year old athlete.  Her legs were long and shapely, all muscle and no fat.  Brilliant lilac eyes with golden flecks were enhanced with gold and reddish eyebrows.  Lightly tanned skin, natural blush highlighted high cheekbones and her mouth and lips were faultless.  Her lip color was similar to a pink and red hybrid rose. 

Ian sensed Sam falter; he helped her sit on the rug and witnessed her shaky intake of breath.

"Not what you expected?" Ian inquired.

Sam shook her head, brushing a handful of hair out of her face.  Closing her eyes, she sought her center.  After a few moments she was breathing normally, opened her eyes and gave him a weak smile.

"I have one more question." 

Her voice touched a part of his soul she'd awakened.  Rich sultry words spilled into his heart and coursed through his body.  He couldn't take his eyes off of her; the urge to hold and caress her was more than a challenge.

"Ask."  He still held her left hand.  She surprised him by shifting to be directly in front of him and placing her right hand on his cheek, brushing his beard with her fingers.

"Truthfully?" She teased.  She couldn't believe her appearance.  The lightening strikes _really_ had done a number on her.  Maybe she did have something to offer him.

"Always."  Ian's heart leapt; she was radiant.  He could tell she was happy to be with _him_.

"Promise you won't get upset?"  Concern colored Sam's attitude.

"I don't think there is anything you could do or say to upset me, unless it's 'you never want to see me again'."

"Not that, not from me."  Sam continued to stroke his cheek, treasuring the touch of his skin and the warmth of his being.  "Okay," she paused, "Have you ever, no."  Sam glanced down and then returned her eyes to his, trying to find the right words.  Holding his gaze, she took a deep breath.

"Will I be your first?"  She held his hand tightly.

Ian attempted to break eye contact but she would not flinch.  Insecurity rose like bile, he heard Irons' voice preaching virginity was a shield, yet Irons had not set the example.  Double standards.  Ian became conscious he was nothing more than Irons' slave and was possibly being groomed to be the Wielder's slave.

He'd heard the men when they had been on duty, Black Ops, boasting about their sexual exploits.  Ian had felt invisible as they carried on, telling tales.  Of all the Black Dragons, he had never been with a woman.  He knew the basics, he thought.  A gentle pull on his beard brought him back, facing Sam.

Reluctantly he nodded, "My first."  It was a mumble.  His eyes looked away, the realization that he was nothing better than a killing machine, to be sold and used by the highest bidder made him ill.  He understood, now, why Sara was repulsed by his presence.  

"Ian, do I displease you?  If there is someone else you'd rather have," Sam's voice trailed off leaving an awkward silence.

She looked down, knowing who he'd want, but she didn't have the Power to alter people's will.  _Unless I'm willing to go to the 'Dark Side',_ she thought wryly.  Sam counted the colors conflicting in Ian's aura.  Apparently it didn't matter what Destiny had in mind, Ian was intent on the Wielder.  She'd determined the cobalt filament was connected to the green-eyed woman she faced in her vision while rescuing the child with Ian.  Sam watched how he mentally studied the diaphanous blue thread that lead away, disheartened.  The strand had lost a great deal of essence and influence.

Sam dropped her hand from his cheek.  Released the one she had been holding, and then stood and walked to the edge of the rug.  He made no protest, which made Sam's heart sink further.

It took Ian a few moments to notice that Sam was no longer with him.  He hadn't heard her questions, being lost in thought.  Looking up, he saw her on the far side of the rug.  Her metaphysical field had lost most of its colors.  A gray fog encased her as if trying to suffocate her life-flame.  In some unknown compartment of his brain, he became aware that Sam's astral health was closely connected to her life force.  Searching for indicators regarding her condition was impossible.  Immediately he rose and resolutely went to her.

She was tired, sad and totally dispirited about what few relationships she had and ever had.  She allowed gravity to pull her to the ground.  The Rug molded itself around her body, creating a pillow for her head.  Although it was mute Artifact, it had the ability to sense and assist It's Divine One.  The fibers shared their Power and energy, pulsating and distributing the ancient Force into her body.  Sam was vaguely aware of what the Artifact was doing.  She patted it and murmured her thanks, and then closed her eyes.

Ian became aware of a concentrated rush of Power thundering under his feet inundating Sam's being.  The flood of pure energy filled her, yet she did not rise.  She rolled onto her side, facing away from Ian and loosely curled into a ball.  Cautiously, Ian continued until he was standing behind her.  Quietly he sat behind her, fearful that she had discovered his past and was disgusted.

"Sam? What did I do?" He knew he sounded plaintive but he wanted a chance to explain his past.

He felt as well as heard her sigh heavily.  Gradually she pushed herself into a sitting position and turned to face him, eyes downcast.  Ian bit his tongue; he desperately wanted to see her eyes.

"Ian, I'm sorry that I am not the woman you love."  She met his anxious gaze.  "I know you love another; if it was within my power to have her here in my stead, I would make it so."  She shrugged, defeat weighed heavily on her shoulders.  "What can I say?"  Sam's imploring look staggered Ian.  He couldn't believe she was serious.

Ian's reaction was instantaneous.  Before Sam could blink, he moved from a sitting position and swept her into his arms, twirling her.  He shifted her slightly, bringing her near and kissed her fiercely.  He could never remember a time in his life when someone even considered putting his wishes before theirs.  Somehow she knew about his love for Sara, but not all the facts.

He let Sam's feet touch the rug, never breaking contact.   He held her head between his hands and covered her lips, temples and throat with kisses.  His exuberance made her laugh.  She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his.

Sam was confused and defenseless against the onslaught of kisses.  His joy was a living and very lively thing.  She couldn't snare his lips, he moved too fast.  Instead she maneuvered close enough to place long, intense kisses at the hollow of his throat and up to his jaw.  She hoped to get his attention.  What had she said to prompt this reaction, she wondered.

The pressure of Sam's body against his almost distracted him.  The sensations he was experiencing were beyond words.  One of his hands stroked the sinews along her back, making her gasp and move closer to him.  He tried to be gentle, as not to hurt her.  Her lips at the hollow of his throat stimulated him.  Warmth rippled throughout his body.

"Tell me what to do," His voice was hot against her ear.  "I do not want to hurt you."  His entreaty was full of love.  He placed little kisses around her ear, when she moved against him while in his arms, he had problems concentrating.  He would rather die than cause her pain.

Sam understood his restraint when he whispered in her ear.  What she didn't understand was why he held her so tightly; she wasn't complaining.  He held her like a lover.  

"Tell you?" Running one of her hands through his mane, she tried to hold back a moan, but he caressed her back.  She jerked and a soft moan escaped.

"Hurt you?" Concern was evident in his voice.  She smelled of the salt air and when he nuzzled her neck he reveled in the scent of jasmine.  When she moved against him, it reminded him of the times he'd catch butterflies.  He'd hold them kindly between his hands and feel their wings beat against his palms, and then free the beautiful insects unharmed.

"No."  She managed to squeak.  He'd started massaging a place on her back and it literally took her breath.  A few moments later, Sam was able to find bare skin and kiss him, mentally thrusting her true feelings into his essence.

Ian jolted with a sharp intake of breath as his body was engulfed with flashes of heat and spasms.  Sam's love was pure and it coursed throughout him.  

"Is it supposed to feel like this?"  Ian asked breathlessly.  Without understanding, he felt her smile.  He didn't remember how or when they had sunk onto the rug.  He rediscovered her lips and made sure to reintroduce himself.  His strong arms encircled her waist; his hands lightly touching her back.

Sam responded to his kisses.  She stroked his temple when they paused, tilted her head as she studied his face.  Her brow was wrinkled in thought.

Seeing her puckered brow, Ian placed a light buss on the ridge of her forehead.

"Did I do something wrong? Tell me, please." His voice, though husky, was nearly a whisper.

She gave him an ironic smile and tossed her head negatively.

"Not you.  Me."  She replied, brushing a tendril of his hair off his face.

Ian looked at her mystified.  "You didn't do anything wrong?" He frowned, "Did you?"

"I just wanted your first time to be special."  She glanced into his eyes then looked at his body as he leaned over her.  Her finger drew languid circles on his chest.  "You don't need to worry about hurting me."

"But, before."  He trailed off, unable to give words to the horror in her past.

"Oh, babe, two totally different events.  What happened before?" She waited till he met her gaze, "That was brutal, about power and abuse.  What you and I are doing's considered making love."

"But it is sex, right?" Part of him felt embarrassed to have to ask, but he felt safe with her.  She made him feel whole.

"Yes," she chuckled.  "It's a part of sex."  She observed the garnet hues surrounding him grow darker and larger.

                "There's more?  Is that when we copulate?"  His face lit up light a child discovering more Christmas presents.

                Sam tried unsuccessfully to keep the smile off her face and the laugh that escaped.  She covered her mouth and turned her face, but he could still fell her body shake as she laughed.

                He looked at her unable to determine what she found so amusing.  Ian didn't feel like she was laughing at him.  Watching as she tried to get a keep a straight face was entertaining for him.  He could feel the humor lurking under the surface.  Sam shifted beneath him; he gasped in astonishment by what her movement had initiated in him.  

                Sam heard his gasp and paid attention to Ian's attempt to 'not' move.  Slowly and deliberately she moved her hips from side to side.  She was rewarded with another sharp intake of breath and Ian looked at her, helplessly.

                Ian felt like his body was betraying him.  He wanted, no needed something but he didn't know.  He didn't want to bother Sam, except he didn't think he had a choice.  He gave her a beseeching stare and was surprised by her warm smile.

                Sam's hand slipped behind Ian's neck, under his hair and gradually pulled him to her.  She had to reposition to meet his lips with hers.

He moaned and melded his lower body with hers.  Her kiss electrified him; in the back of his mind he practically chanted "making love not brutal".  He wanted Sam to know how intense, incredibly wonderful she felt to him.  He wrapped his arms around her and returned her kiss with gusto.

Sam wanted him to enjoy and know the pleasure.  She loved his kisses, with one hand behind his neck; she ran her other hand down his back making him shudder.  Odd she thought, "making love not brutal" seemed to echo in her mind.  His moan motivated her, she found herself moving with him.  His body was hot and solid.  They found their rhythm.  She thought it was up to her to help Ian find gratification.

"I want you to feel this with me," Ian murmured in her ear.  He kissed her temple, and sped up the rhythm.  Suddenly Sam was experiencing Ian's feelings and he felt hers.

"This is the way to make love?"  Ian asked as their bodies started to quiver as one.  The intensity of their sensations was doubled.  Sam was stunned, couldn't think because her and Ian's body were arching, pressing harder.  They held on to each other, were spectators and participants simultaneously.  Their forms hit an unspoken peak and then stopped; tensions had been set up like dominoes.  One of them trembled and all the pieces collapsed, one against the other.  Their orgasm exploded, rivaling a cosmic event.

They clung to each other as aftershocks battered them at irregular intervals.  A few moments of tranquility passed and Ian kissed Sam tenderly.  They both felt like pieces of crystal.

"Hold me?" Sam requested, fighting to keep her eyes open and not succeeding.

"Anytime," replied Ian just as sleepily.  He curled his beaten body around hers.  Before sleep overtook both of them he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, _my_ Samsara."

*******

Time looked at Death across the empty beach, then at the other Incarnations.   

"Don't tell me we've lost them."  Time exclaimed.

From a small hut, came roaring and several different screams.

"I'll return the Elder, the rest of you," Time looked at his comrades, "Are on your own to find the Divine One." 

He glanced at the hovel where many of the beasts had gone, and then noticed the ones that had been guarding the outside of the orb.  With a thought he was at the hut, grabbed the Elder and returned him to his body.  He left the old man with a memory of _something amazing happened_, but he couldn't recall what it had been. _ The young man he'd had in his office, had gone into the library._

*****

Time bit back a curse.  Instead, he started to search hoping that Sam would not alter history.  He didn't hold much hope for that.  He straightened his fuzzy hat and fondly remembered his Daniel Boone hat.  With a flick of his wrist, the hat changed.  He looked about the compound, sighed and stepped….

********

Immo sat in his office, horrified by the classified intelligence he'd been receiving all morning by courier.  He was searching for reasons why his reports had been so shocking.  Immo had to find _something_ to inform and explain to Mr. Irons.  Going over complicated to simple lab tests, each one had the same conclusion.  No matter where the research laboratory was located or what the scientists used to mix their solutions resulted in one thing.  

""Chicken soup?" Immo read incredulously aloud.


	12. Chapter ElevenThe Bigger They Are

**_CHAPTER ELEVEN…_****_"_**_The Bigger They Are…"_

_"Experience is a hard teacher.  She gives the test first, the lesson afterward."_

_Anonymous_

__

            Quinn had been pouring over communications, from all over the world that had made their way to corporate headquarters.  It came to light that it wasn't just Vorschlag satellites that were being targeted and destroyed.  Vorschlag fleets of aircraft were grounded by unexplained mechanical failure.   Quinn soon discovered the companies that had allied with Vorschlag were also experiencing acts of sabotage.

As they studied the tapes, the machines died one by one, eating parts of video and audio.  Early morning video tapes, on new VCRs purchased at various stores with different series numbers to minimize possible tampering, gave no indication of vandalism.  The newly acquired equipment also stopped working without cause.  They had no leads or the tiniest of clues.

               Passing his hand through his sandy, cropped hair he faced the worst, most complete act of interference ever conceived.  It had been his suggestion to have the spouses of married couples checked and given minimum clearance.  That one action was keeping Vorschlag running.  He'd given his teams directions to perform as though they were executing field tests.  Reports verified that the press took the bait.  It was only a matter of time before canny reporters knew they had been given false information and the public realized Vorschlag was in trouble.

There was a knock on the open cubicle that acted as his office.  Looking up he observed the dreaded black suit with crimson handkerchief.  _Executioner security,_ his mind flashed.  Two hundred fifty pounds of pure flesh rending power wrapped with a red bow.  He sighed, in the back of his mind he knew he'd be dragged upstairs to talk to the devil himself, but held a shred of hope that he would be overlooked.  He straightened his tie and picked up several folders, mostly bad news, but with his spouse network, information was making its way to the center of operations.

Wishing he had time to grab a shower, hell at this point he'd kill for a cup of the offices' infamous Grade XXX burned coffee.  Anything to sear the taste of fear, that inundated his being, Quinn wished. He was led down a corridor to a modified golf cart.  The sentry barely fit behind the wheel.  In chaos there was humor, reflected Quinn.  His heightened sense of self-preservation helped keep the smile off his face.

The security guard waited till his passenger was sitting, then floored the custom-made cart, whizzing through corridors, some Quinn knew, many he didn't.  The ride ended at a freight elevator.  Emerging from the cart took longer for the guard, Quinn made sure his attention was elsewhere.  Free from the cart, the human killing machine opened the freight elevator and took Quinn to the waiting copter.

Gritting his teeth, Quinn got in and buckled up.  Another security guard, looking like the first's identical twin was already seated next to the pilot.  No pleasantries, none were expected or given.  As the helicopter left the ground, Quinn could swear he'd left his stomach back in the cart.  The ride was smooth and fast, he kept his eyes closed until he felt the bump under the copter.  Opening his eyes, he looked as though he were at the back door of a mansion, a chill rippled down his spine.  Quinn remembered the buzz about Irons not being well, the wave instantly transformed into a boulder lodged in his belly.  A wounded creature, animal or man, was hard pressed to be fair when presented with trouble.  The predicament Quinn would relate to Irons was more than any one corporation could face in its entire history, let alone one day.  He unbuckled his belt, and keeping his head down, headed to the open door the 'walking wall' was holding.  He took a breath, reminded himself his life insurance policies were paid and entered the lions den.

******

The Elder took the Talisman that he and his fellow Masters had created.  Examining the carvings, intricate glyphs, tracing that the Power was flowing freely, it only had to be placed upon the Divine One's bicep to activate fully.  The Power was like a miniature cyclone, grabbing extraneous thoughts, emotions and negative energy and converted it to benefit Samsara.  As he rose to return to his Refuge, Chin-Liu of the Highest Peak monastery spoke.

"We have gifts," he looked around the weathered table, "and Artifacts that were not housed at the Cliff Refuge."  He looked at the Master of the Cliff Refuge, "we were unaware of their presence until Samsara made her journey.  They came forward and made their wishes known.  They would help her fight against the Darkness that comes."  He set what appeared to be a delicate piece of jewelry on the table.  A golden Spider.  The body was amber, the head had been fire agate; its multi-faceted eyes were diamonds and mandibles were rubies.  The Arachnid's golden legs propelled it to Sam's Master.  Its eyes rotated and pinchers silently moved, prepared, it seemed ready to take its prey.

"As with light, there is dark," stated another Elder.  He brought forward and object wrapped in white silk.  His hands shook slightly as he set it next to the spider, whose eyes appeared to flash a golden spark before settling closer to the Master.  He rubbed his hands on his robe, thankful the object was no longer his responsibility.

An embarrassed Elder came forward, his head tilted as if trying to describe the Artifact that had _demanded_ his will and necessity for his attendance to the Divine One.  He could not find the words so he carefully and silently placed a red silk wrapped Artifact on the table.  The material rustled as though the Artifact was trying to escape.

The remaining Masters stood and brought their items forward.  They placed a teapot the size of the pad of a man's thumb with cups scaled to match; next to it they set a rice cook-pot approximately the same size along with two bowls and tiny chopsticks.  Each cooking vessel set primly upon an enchanted piece of fire opal. 

Sam's Master looked at the tiny dishware before him and raised his eyebrow, looking at the others for comment.  He'd heard stories and after tonight would know the truths.  A small pouch, elegant enough to be worn as jewelry was placed near the set.

"We thought these were only myths," said the older of the two monks.  "But they appeared during our meditations with instructions they be presented to the Divine One."  Added the young Master, new to his position.

Nodding, Sam's Elder sat.  "The Divinities are making sure she will always have food and water."  He stood and carefully placed the items in the pouch.  His fingers tingled from the ancient Power that resided in the objects.  He was grateful, knowing Samsara would never want.  Remembering, he could hear her voice in the back of his head, asking for hot water.  The thought nearly made him smile.

The Master of the Cliff Refuge came forward carrying a silken, black bag.  "This is for her trip back to the States."  He looked down, "I never thought I would witness this day."  He focused on Sam's Master, "I keep her in my meditations and send her strength."  The others murmured the same.  One by one they bowed to Sam's Elder and left.  He remained long enough to pack the items in the medium sized bag.  After blowing out the last candle in the room, darkness settled soundlessly.

Closing his eyes, he focused on 'home' and was instantly standing in his courtyard.  He sent his senses out for Sam and was horrified to find her gone and her Artifacts alone at the beach in frenzy.  He called up to the windows; the Brother's rubbed sleep from their heavy lids and responded they would assist.  Moments later, they were winding their way down to the beach.  The Master called ahead so the Artifacts would come together.  As he set foot on the beach, the remaining Power flux knocked him back, causing him to trip over his fellows.

Something major happened, and sudden.  He was faced with assorted Artifacts, each bemoaning its loss of the Divine One.  The Master calmed them and had the other monks escort the Artifacts back into the Monastery compound.  The transfer took time and a great deal of strength, once they were safely inside the complex the Master headed for his cubicle to meditate and find Sam.  He could feel the new Artifacts move in the bag over his shoulder.  He hoped finding Sam would not be difficult or lengthy.  Placing the new bag on a small shelf, he sat gratefully on his futon.

*********

Sleep clogged Ian's eyes as he stumbled out of bed toward a dim source of light, instinctively knowing it was a bathroom.  His mind was as unsteady as he was on his feet, making his way into an older bathroom.  Unstable, he sat; any thoughts other than emptying his bladder were shrouded in a mental fog.  Moments later, he managed to find a sink and wash his hands and he felt the thick darkness of exhaustion pull at his awareness.  He barely returned to the bed and crawled in before he was swept into slumber's cocoon.

Ian's motion disrupted Sam and she fought her way to consciousness.  She, as well, had to answer Nature's call not comprehending what had awakened her.  Fumbling her way toward the light, her mind tried to drag itself out of the dense mire.  Confused, the lack of cold against her skin and the tile underfoot, nearly woke her.  It was if a stronger force had her in its grip.  She found her way, relieved herself, washed and made her way back to the bed before succumbing to the swell of oblivion.

*******

Quinn followed closely behind the guard, trying to note points of reference.  He'd gotten trapped in a maze as a child, since then his sense of direction had heightened from concentrated use.  It was a subject his wife had affectionately teased him about, but he found it had permeated his work with the satellites and the global positioning systems.  If he'd had to guess where the attacks against the satellites had originated, he'd put the source in mainland China.  The other attacks seemed to be an afterthought.

After he'd misnamed several pieces of art for his own purpose, he entered what seemed to be an employee elevator.  The elevator stopped on the second floor and he had to put his mental pin into an Oriental watercolor before turning left and heading straight to the third door on his right.  The guard knocked and an automated reply answered, granting them entrance.  Turning, the black suited muscle man glanced at Quinn, and for an instant there was a look of regret and then it was gone.  The door opened silently and Quinn stepped into a grand sitting room.

Southwestern clay earth tones, tan, umber and charcoal with fixtures of brass and furniture of antique cedar were arranged to be the stage.  Kachinas and weavings were strategically placed around the room, and represented stories of how the Trickster conned the gods.  Carvings of Laughing Coyote sat on either side of Irons' massive center of attention.  Runes were carved into his desk; Quinn would not even venture a supposition regarding their meaning.  Garnet draperies had been pulled; sheer curtains captured the orange-red hues of a desert sunset.  The scene would have been perfect, considered Quinn, if the unattractive, large vocal reproduction machine hadn't been visible.  He managed to ignore the machine and what it implied and focused on Irons.

Digging deep for what might have been his last bit of self-control, Quinn decided the uniform of the day was black.  Irons hand-stitched black Armani silk suit softened only by the silver grey shirt and meticulously knotted red and silver silk herringbone tie was appropriate, he reflected.  Irons, like the guards, had a red silk kerchief in his jacket pocket.  The state of affairs regarding communications and travel were grim, and he had no happy news to report.  He met Irons' cold blue eyes with his; truly wishing he was anywhere but here.

"Mr. Irons," he nodded respectively and slightly adjusted the folders in his hand.

Irons scrutinized the man in front of him.  He was displeased that he could not watch and rate the incoming manager.  All of the men that had been appearing before him this morning were simpering twits, he'd decided.  Now he stared dispassionately at his newest arrival.  The file he had on the man, literally a paper file, detailed this manager's suggestions and actions, and had surprised Irons.  The man knew and did his job very well and had managed to "fly under the radar", of the upper management.  Irons typed and the voice synthesizer echoed his written words.

"Do you have any good news for me, Mr. Quinn?"  He observed that Quinn did not squirm or fidget with his folders, and met his gaze squarely.  _Gutsy,_ thought Irons, yet his face did not betray his amusement.

"No sir, at 5 am this morning, Vorschlag satellites were damaged and destroyed by an outside force, that not only recognized the "regular" satellites but somehow had information regarding the interspersed "eyes" and they also were blasted.  All communications, internationally and nationally, has been blocked.  The only way we have been able to get reports are from encrypted messages placed through to and by "civilians".  We have a loose network involving spousal support and finding a back way through this Silence Blockade."  Quinn paused, not only to catch his breath but to see how Irons was taking the news.

Irons sat with his hands in a steeple before him, watching Quinn like a hungry wolf.  The news was like the rest, although Quinn had managed to find a way through part of this nightmare.  Sitting back, he punched the keys, as though punctuating his sentence.

"You told the other stations to state we were doing field tests?" Irons face showed no emotion, waiting for Quinn to become like the rest and fold under pressure.  His lethal steely stare locked onto Quinn like a pit bull on raw meat.

Whether it was the lack of sleep, or concern of his station's status, Quinn did not feel the threat for what it was.  Instead of becoming defensive and wavering, he nodded.

"Yes, I did.  Vorschlag is a big target with many people that don't understand or appreciate the work it does or the fact it _is_ a major employer.  Reporters constantly have their fingers on Vorschlag's throat.  It only makes sense to have an explanation, besides it might flush out the perpetrators."  He shrugged not breaking the visual bond Irons was intent on keeping, and settled his weight.  Almost glad he hadn't been invited to sit.

"Perpetrators?" Irons entered, "Why do you think there's more than one?"  He'd come to that conclusion, but none of the others had the guts to bring up the possibility. 

_Yee Gods_, _duh!_  Quinn said to himself, keeping his face impassive.  He drew in a deep breath, "Yes sir, whatever group did this had to be well funded and with enough people to pull off all of these acts in different parts of the world at the same time.  Unless, you believed in the supernatural and curses."  He raised his eyebrows, with his last statement.  He was dog-tired and his third wind was gone.

Stunned, Irons paused as though inspiration impaled him.  He brought his attention back to the exhausted man slightly tilting from wear.  He tapped a snippet on his computer and then stood.

"Your quick thinking and service will be rewarded.  Get some rest and return to your station has soon as you can stand on your feet."  Irons gave him a rare smile and extended his hand.

"Thank you, sir."  Quinn stepped forward and shook Irons' cool, strong hand.  "I'll be back at the station in no time."  _Soon as I take a shower._  He got the feeling he'd passed a test, but he wasn't sure if that was good thing.  They released each other's hands simultaneously.

Quinn stepped back, "Will there be anything else Mr. Irons?" 

Irons gave him a once over and shook his head and gestured to the door.  _A possible diamond in the rough,_ he decided, _very rough but has promise._

Backing out of the room felt natural to Quinn, and he was relived to find the handle and nod his farewell to the frosty haired devil.  _Please let me remember what I said when I wake up,_ he nearly moaned.  Instead he turned, looked up and regarded the astonished sentry.  Quinn smiled.

"Mr. Irons told me to get some rest," he paused watching emotions stream across the man's face.  "I'd like to go home, please."

Slowly the muscled man nodded and started back to the elevator.  Quinn was happy to see all of his misnamed objects as he went past.  Outside a copter was waiting, scooting into the waiting seat was a relief.  He barely kept his eyes open, but he did it just to watch the mansion disappear.  The craft set down near his station's bunker.  He emerged from the helicopter a relieved but reserved man.  Home tugged at him but he put in an appearance to reassure his team that they were doing a good job _and that he was still alive, _he thought darkly.  He slid his pass-card, punched his entry code and went into what had become his second home.  Employees stopped. Watched as he entered, folders still tucked under his arm.

Feeling their heavy stares, he slowly raised his head and looked around realizing everyone of his team had stopped and was actually holding their breath.  He fought and won the urge to smile, instead gave them a grim shake of the head.

"I've got some bad news and," he stopped, "is there any other kind?"  Quinn asked his captive audience.  Surprisingly, no one piped up in response.  Shrugging and finding a nearby desk on which to place his folders, he took his time and met their eyes.

"Basically, we are blind, but we knew that.  The meeting was," he shook his head, "something I'd like to forget, but basically this team and our counterparts that have been working with us are doing a great job.  Not his words, but he seemed pleased."  He smiled as the team took a collective breath.  Operators and monitors began chattering and soon everyone wanted to know word for word what happened.  He described as much as he could, and then begged off to go home and catch a nap.  As he was moving for the door to leave, his friends and workers wished him a sound sleep and promised not to blow anything up while he was gone.  He laughed with them and exited the building.  Mid-day, already.  It would be a short but welcome nap.  Winding his way through the parking lot, he found his beat-up Toyota, as he sat in the driver's seat relief washed over him.  Turning on the car, adjusting of seatbelt and in ten minutes he was home.

********

Birds chirping cheerfully at the rising sun woke Ian.  Realization of a warm body draped over him, and his hands resting on silky, bare flesh.  Jasmine and the scent of a spring night on the beach stirred his leaden memories.  _The beach,_ he remembered, _but how did we end up in a bed?_ Prying his eyes open slowly, this was partially due to the crust of sleep, but mainly really due to his innate caution.  Through his narrowed eyes, he glimpsed blonde hair with lightening bright streaks covered his shoulder and her head resting on his chest.  One of her hands had woven through his chest hair.  Her even breathing and the heat from her body reassured him she was seemingly unharmed.

Her weight distribution set off a physical trigger and he tried not to move.  He tried to focus on the room instead of what his instincts directed.  The room was decorated simply, a chest of drawers sat next to the window.  The light and the bird song streamed through the lacy curtains.  A desk and chair was barely within his sight, having to strain to look over Sam.  _Sam._

He almost moaned, without realizing he gripped her a little tighter.  His body was not accepting the ploy to divert his attention from the prize in his arms and on his body.  Try as he might, he couldn't fathom why such an incredibly beautiful and skilled woman cared for him.  She'd entrusted him with her life, memories and he suspected (or hoped) her heart.  Lying in bed, with her leg draped between his, her soft curves pressed against him.  Flashes of the beach, how intense their passions had been, he hoped that she would not be repulsed to find herself in bed with him.  He closed his eyes and tried to memorize every sensation she elicited, which only made his desire for her increase. 

Ian concentrated on keeping his breathing even and attempted to slow the increasing speed of his heart.  She shifted slightly, as though snuggling into the safe arms of her lover.  A serene sigh wisped from her and though her subconscious was still swathed in sleep, she brushed her lips across his chest as she nestled her head over his heart.   As if by its own motivation, his left hand stroked the hair that draped over her shoulder and his chest.  He had never touched hair so silky, just being able to handle her tresses was an unbelievable bonus.  _No matter what happens,_ he thought to himself,_ I will treasure this always._  He carefully lifted a lock of hair and brought it to his nose and inhaled the fragrance of jasmine and lingering vestiges of the beach.  He remembered the light and the strange men who were there.

He was curious as to where he was currently, but was in no hurry to awaken his fairy-tale princess.  The thought of her as a princess made him smile, partially because he knew she would balk at being labeled, especially with such a high rank.  Being bound to her gave him an insight to her that a "regular friend" would miss, like a mystical veil which captured images and feelings reflecting _her._

Ian became conscious that Sam would have similar insight into his life, the idea was depressing.  How could she stand to be tied to a person who had no redeeming value?  Squeezing his eyes tightly, he stanched his tears.  She would know the evil he'd been bred and trained to do.  Before his past only haunted his dreams and now, his eyes lingered upon Sam, she would know him for what he was, _a killer_.  Her rejection would be devastating, much more than Sara's had been.  The possibility of being unbound from her unnerved him, ironically more than the initial proposal of their "binding".

For an instant, Sam thought she was home.  The warmth, heartbeat and her fingers intertwined in his chest hair, and then it was gone.  Her old "life" had died a long time ago and now she found herself atop a bare muscled and nicely furred man.  Bits of the beach encounter filtered into her nearly conscious brain.  _His first time,_ rebounded through her synapses.  They had somehow shared their sensations which triggered an extremely pleasurable, yet powerful satisfaction.  Inwardly Sam groaned, recreating or repeating the magnitude of physical gratification they'd experienced could never happen again.  How would she explain to him the amazing night was a once in a lifetime happening?  One night and she'd already ruined his concept of what sex was supposed to be.  She tried to remember how, let alone what had occurred.  The best she could surmise was the binding must have heightened their feelings, that and she had a hunch that "Love" may have added something to the mix.  Whatever had ensued, she was delighted to be in a real bed and discovering her "pillow" was a handsome, lovable man.     

Again she moved, and her body started to straighten then stopped.  Slowly she lifted her head and tried to see through her sleepy eyes, finally rotating her head to look at his face.  She moved her right hand, palm down and rested her chin on the back of her hand as she studied his eyes and his "neutral" expression.  If she had been looking for an answer, she didn't see a Post-It on his forehead explaining the 'next step'.  Squinting, she noticed Ian's expression was verging on distraught and fear.  Maintaining her 'sleepy condition', she glanced over his aura.  His fears were practically in neon, _afraid I'll be repulsed about his past, no redeeming value? What?_

 Sam had to work to keep her nonchalant and sleepy expression to repress her outrage that he'd been so beaten and brainwashed he believed that he wasn't fit to be in her presence.  His history had been part of the information they shared when they did the "binding", for her it was the unedited version.  She _knew _how Irons had 'programmed' and mutilated Ian's confidence as well as his body.  _Irons' ass is grass, _she decided, _and I'm going to be doing some heavy duty mowing._

She sighed and turned her head so she could set her cheek on her hand.  Her breathing was regular and quiet; she knew now was not the time to accost his past.  He needed her trust and to realize that she believed in him.  

"Do you know where we are?" Her voice was nearly a whisper.

He shook his head, trying to find his voice, "No, I thought you might."

A heavy sigh, "We'll get up in a couple of minutes, okay?"  Her head was back on his chest.

"Sure," he said.  Relief started to loosen his muscles; he was thrilled to be able to hold her for a little longer.  His hand was still tangled in her hair, but he kept it still.  They weren't going anywhere right away.  A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.  He never understood happiness; he did now.  Relishing his sensations, yet mainly he discovered a peace as he lay with Sam.  No expectations or demands.  He wondered if life was really like this.

"Ian, do you prefer to sleep on your right or left side?" The fingers of her left hand traced around and through some of the hairs on his chest.  She knew he couldn't see her face and the smile as she watched his muscles jump.

"I never thought about it," he was confused and distracted by her light caress, "my right side I suppose.  Why?"

"Right side? Okay."  She started to slide off his body and was surprised when he caught and held her in place.  She lifted her head and looked into his questioning eyes.

"Did I say something wrong?"  He attempted to keep the desperation out of his voice.

"Oh no, Handsome.  I was just shifting.  Have you ever heard of 'spooning'?"  Sam met his eyes, conveying her love and patience.  She watched him calm down and shake his head.

"No, I never heard of it.  He paused, "why did you call me 'Handsome'?"  Her smile warmed him and he actually felt her love course through his being.

"I called you 'Handsome' as a term of endearment and because you are."  She punctuated her remark with a gentle touch on his left temple, lightly sweeping a tendril of hair off his face.  "And 'spooning' is sharing a bed with another by curling around and holding them while lying on your side.  Since you like lying on your right side, I would curl around you, from behind and hold you.  The term is from the way silverware, spoons, rest together."

Ian's face resembled the sun as a cloud lifted and understanding replaced concern.  Like the weather, it changed again as his expression turned slightly downcast.

"But I would rather hold you."  He looked down, expecting to be scolded.

"Hey," Sam tugged on his beard, and he looked at her through his eyelashes.  "If you want to lie on your right side, you are going to have to move, or lay on your left side to hold me.  What's it going to be?"  Her hand rested on his cheek.

Ian struggled to keep the surprise off his face.  _She was giving him a choice; she wasn't angry at him for questioning._  He moved, leaving a space for her to lie next to him and he could curl around her on his right side.  Reluctantly, he let her go and was quietly relieved when she slipped into the place he created

Sam managed not to grin as she slid onto his side of the bed, rolling on her right side.  She felt him mimic her pose, but he did not move very close.  Instead of making him move, she scooted back until they were touching.  Then she reached behind and took his left hand, brought it across her waist and held it close to her chest.

"Any objections?  And you can loosen up; I promise return your hand, okay?"  Sam felt him adjust his position, and interlace the fingers of the hand she held with hers.

"None," he murmured into her ear.  It felt only natural to emphasize his statement with a couple of kisses to her neckline and the bend of her shoulder and neck.  He was rewarded with her squirm and close wiggle.  Suddenly his body reacted and he tried to pull away, but she held his arm close to her waist.

"Sam," he mumbled helplessly.

"Don't feel betrayed by your body." Her voice was soft and compassionate.  "Your reactions are normal."  Sam chuckled quietly as she added, "Very male."

Shifting slightly, so she could see him over her shoulder and meet his eyes.  "It is somewhat of a compliment for me." Her voice trailed off; waiting for the question she knew he'd ask.

"Compliment?" Confusion replaced concern.  He readjusted the grip he had on her hand and inched nearer, bringing his face close enough to brush his cheek against her shoulder.

  "Your unspoken reaction," she brought his hand up and kissed his callused knuckles, "made me think you find me attractive, either that or you're blind."

Ian stopped, surprised, in mid-swipe and looked into her eyes.  Her tone might have been light-hearted, but her eyes revealed a near-imperceptible sorrow.  If he hadn't looked when he did…

"Not blind, Samsara."  He pressed his lips against her temple then scooted back into the "spoon" position.  It didn't bother him, this time, when his body responded to Sam.  He pulled her close and held her tight.

Sam wrapped Ian's arm firmly and snuggled into his embrace.  She was grateful to have a brief respite in a real bed, with an incredible, yet terribly insecure man.  She knew he needed unconditional love, which she was willing to give.  The hardest part would be stepping aside so he might fulfill his Destiny.

 Satisfied, he closed his eyes and settled down, his mind turned to finding ways of showing Sam how much she meant to him.

********

               A dark tousle-haired man let out a happy war-cry as he discovered his contact in China had managed to acquire the legendary sword of the Ming Empire.  He punched in a reply to his encrypted e-mail and sent his hasty response.  Gabriel Bowman was adding the sword of Chinese folk-lore to his inventory.  The new arrival's only true equal was Excalibur.  Stories said Excalibur was used by King Arthur, but that sword everyone knew, was just a myth.

            Gabe looked around his shop, at what others would deem clutter.  He smiled, knowing what, where and how his inventory was stored.  Histories.  Each articles' background was more like a story, sometimes a 'bedtime' story, many however, were not.

********

          Mother Nature let herself in to the room in which Ian and Sam had drifted back to sleep.  She watched the sleeping couple, pleased to see how their auras melded.  Shaping a rocker out of the air, she waited till the young man would waken.  This morning he would have his first "official" meeting with an Incarnation.  Her smile warmed the room, and silently rocked and waited. 


	13. Chapter Twelve The Harder They Fall

Please take some time and give me some feed back as to how the storyline is progressing. Thanx!

Excerpts from "Short People"

By:  Randy Newman

Excerpt from:

The SecretGarden

By:  Frances Hodgson Burnett

©1911

**_CHAPTER TWELVE…_**

_THE HARDER THEY FALL_

_"It is not forgive and forget.  _

_It is forgive and learn. Never forget the Past."                _

               Aratee

Gossamer strands had found their way around Ian's nose and caught on his eyelashes waking him.  Trying to puff the strands away from his face was successful.  He found himself cuddled tightly around Sam, embracing her in a near 'death-grip'.  When he realized how tightly he was holding her, he attempted to disengage himself without waking her.  Sensing another presence in the room made him freeze and scan the room.  Between the bed and window was a translucent, well endowed creamy skinned woman with eyes that rivaled the purest of emeralds with gleaming long, wavy sable, hair.  She wore a delicate gown on which Ian thought he saw "moving images".  It was as though a live video feed was wired into her garment.

"Ma" Nature reclined on an invisible chaise lounge and watched Ian's reaction, knowing he would remain calm. It was her will and within her power.  Having found the 'missing couple', she would reward herself by trifling with what the humans would describe Ian as, 'fresh meat'.   Samsara would not be interrupting the conservation she planned to have with the young mortal.

_"Hush Young Ian, Don't fret about your arm around Samsara." _She spoke with her mind.  A kind smile lifted the corners of her lips.  Her long gown focused on a part of the rain forest, and all the creatures, plants and insects that were living around a particular pool.  She was amused by the flood of emotions that raced across his face.

Fear, embarrassment, surprise, wonder, of all these emotions worry overrode and he opened his mouth to respond. Nature shook her head and put her finger to her lips and then tapped her temple.  It took a moment then Ian nodded his understanding.

"My strength is more than most and I do not want to break Sam's ribs or cause her harm."  He thought as loud as he could.  Squinting his eyes with the effort.

Mother Nature nearly fell off her air divan from the mental blow Ian had inadvertently heaved at her.

"Not so loud." She cried mentally, bringing her hand up to her head as if to ward off a blow.  For a moment the images on her gown were replaced with volcanoes that were active, lava and smoke spewing into the sky.  "Think at the same volume you would speak.  As for Samsara, she will not be harmed, even by _your_ strength."  Her laugh was deep, the rumble before an avalanche.

Ian looked skeptical.  Glancing down, he was encouraged by Sam's relaxed, warm breathing.  She held his hand tightly against her chest.  The heat of her body radiated off his bare chest.  Her scent was intoxicating; his body reacted to her and he recalled what she had said earlier, "Very male".  Smiling at the memory, he was becoming aware of how much he appreciated her patience and sense of humor.  He felt her friendship, support and had shown him sincerity.  Glancing down at her, he became conscious that their relationship was a living, growing thing.  Sam believed in him; he was sure of that.

Looking up, he met the eyes of the ageless, picturesque woman before him.  There was no perceptible aura which sent a shiver up his spine.  He had many questions, but decided it would be safer to have Sam awake before proceeding.

The woman shook her head, "Samsara will sleep during our conversation." Gaia knew the other Incarnations had often labeled her fickle, mainly because of her gender.  She was no more or less capricious than the rest, her actions were just more apparent.  Nature waited for Ian's reply.

"Why? Why can she not be a part of our conversation?" Ian almost forgot and had to literally bite his tongue.  He became aware his agitation would wake Sam, so he took a moment to concentrate and found his center.  Returning his attention to the voluptuous woman, he waited with a steely-eyed stare.

"Because, I want to speak to you 'alone'."  She made the quotation marks with her hands.  Sam will always be your 'safety net', but I wanted to impart some information to you.  It is not a _secret_; it is just some things that _you_ need to know.  Understand?"  Her look was that of a strict school proctor.  It allowed for no questions, let alone backtalk.

Ian nodded; grateful Sam was holding his hand.

"I suppose we should do this properly.  I know who you are, but you don't have a clue who or what I am, right?"

"Right," Ian responded mentally, half holding his breath.

"I am the Incarnation of 'Nature'.  She waited to see how he would accept this information; when he did not flinch or look uncertain, she continued.  "There are other Incarnations you will meet since you have come to be closely associated with Samsara.  You asked Samsara about her platinum streaks?"

Ian nodded, certain he didn't want to know the answer, but he knew he was out of luck.

"She got her first one by running into Death.  Literally.  She was healing a woman whose time had come and Death stepped into the room just as she was heading into the other room for water and Bam, he almost knocked her down. Boy! She was furious!"

Gaia smiled, remembering Death gesturing with his boney hands and how he bumped into the Divine One.  "_She wasn't even afraid of me, and I am Death,"_ he said with a rattling noise which was his laugh.

"What happened next," his mental voice whispered.  He could visualize Sam angry, not even backing away from Death.  Ian didn't know which was more compelling, her fearlessness, or her kindness.  Sam's unassuming demeanor was one of her best weapons, as well as her unlikely defense.  He felt honored to have her as his friend.  His concentration returned to the story regarding his beautiful 'bedmate'.

"Death puffed himself up, and said "I am the all powerful Death, stand aside while I tend to my business.'" Nature managed to      simulate the 'all-powerful Oz voice' as Sam had dubbed it.  She saw Ian smile. "Well Samsara was not impressed by the voice, or 'I'm better      than you are tone, so she said 'no, you cannot have this woman'.  Death said, 'It is her Time to die'."  So Sam spoke to the dying woman.      The woman _was _in a great deal of pain, but she wanted to live long enough to see her daughter married, which would've been in two days.  So my Lady patted her hand and conferred with Death.

She told him that the woman wanted to see her daughter get married which would be in two days, so Sam asked for five days and that she would stay with the woman to keep the pain at bay so the mother would be able to enjoy the festivities.  Death asked, "If the daughter is getting married in two days, why are you asking for five?"

Sam looked at him, "Think of it as a wedding present. If the mother dies the same day of the wedding, everyone would grieve.  For the young couple to have a chance to start a happy marriage, the mother needs to be able to participate in the wedding, and be home when they return from the end of their brief wedding trip.  The mother would have the chance to see her daughter happily married.  More importantly, the woman would have a chance to make peace with her family and ready to leave this life. Humans have a hard time saying good-bye, especially 'loved-ones'".

"Death agreed on one condition", she paused to see if Ian was paying attention.  Watching him under her eyelashes, she observed that his and Sam's auras merged and flowed, complimenting each other.  _This bodes well for the Prophecy_, she noted.

Ian had another question he was holding, but he knew he had to ask what Death's condition was.  Sighing deeply, he looked at Nature, mentally asking, "What was the condition?" 

"For the woman to have her five days, Sam must be the one to take the life-force from the woman's body along with her soul."  His voice brooked no argument or barter, stated the Earth Mother.

Ian felt the color drain from his face; he knew Sam would rather give her own life than take that of another.  Their binding had imparted most of the equivalent of over twenty-five years of each other's past, beliefs, hopes and dreams.  His eyes had dropped away from 'Nature'.  After regaining his composure, he returned his focus to the vast woman and asked, "What did she do?"

Gaia took a deep breath and looked down a moment, and then looked up and met Ian's stare.

"She took the woman's life and soul, but she did not give them to Death.  Instead, _Samsara_ took them to their destinations."  Tears glistened on the Earth Mother's flawless face, shimmering, liquid crystals.  Death, as well as the other Incarnations were astonished that someone would care so, to…"   She stopped and broke eye contact. 

Ian had a definite sense that the place Samsara had to take the life force and soul was not a usual, let alone easy journey.  He was beginning to feel like he was part of a large metaphysical puzzle.  His gaze drifted down to Sam's sleeping face.  How he wished she were awake, just for moral support.  Her leaned over and pressed his lips onto her bare shoulder, relishing the smidgen of skin under his lips.  As he started to sit upright, her hand squeezed his and a fleeting thought passed through is mind. _Don't let on_.  He could not sense her passage, but he _knew _she was with him.

She glanced down and caught Ian kissing the Divine One's smooth skin; her eyes scanned his aura and noticed his feelings were more significant than she had first recognized.  The signs of neediness, companionship and friendship, represented by various gray and brown foggy shades that had been the overriding elements of his metaphysical appearance had receded and other, bright, positive colors were appearing. 

A sparkle of true love had broken free from its cloudy crystal prison and had swept through his aura.  A streak of pure red formed eddies, paisley, feathery, windswept, cubist forms all around his physical being.  They changed constantly.  'Nature' caught her breath, Ian's love for their Divine One was _True_ and selfless.  The Holy One had the same feelings for Ian, _True_ love and selflessness, but refused to acknowledge them, believing he was spoken for by the Wielder of the Witchblade.  She had no desire to tear him away from the woman he loved.  _I've loved and lost before, it just happens to be my karma;_ Sam lied to herself.  Gaia was aware of the Divine One's self deception.

Gaia and the Incarnations knew the "True" Witchblade "Guardian" was not a true warrior like Ian.  Irons had cleverly planted the seed that Ian would be the Guardian, when in reality, Irons planned on using the Blade for his own use.  The "True" Protector would be able to defend himself, but his main purpose would be to determine the Evil, when where and how to take it down with as few innocents getting hurt, and to watch the BladeWielder's back.  Ian was intent on watching Sam and didn't notice that the Earth Mother had been quiet.

The other crystal-types of love which lent their color to the rainbow were "loyal protector love" which defined his feeling for the BladeWielder.  His desperation to be loved had started to twist and discolor the 'protector love' into the 'love a man has toward a woman he truly desires'. An important 'crystal-type' love was crumbling with each truth uncovered, was that of the young toward their 'guardian' or father/mother figures.  The love toward Irons as 'father' was disintegrating and falling in chunks; it was likely this trip would end any feeling of affection toward Irons.  Nature noticed this silently, not wanting to disrupt the moment Ian had with Samsara.

"Where were we?" Nature dabbed her eyes with what appeared to be petals from an exotic flower that vanished after her use.  "The reason I related that story to you was because your life has become entangled with Samsara's.  I can change that, right after this trip.  You will be a free man.  Not having to answer to anyone, no Incarnations to muddle up your life, your memory of Sam will be like a dream.  A very good dream. Would you like me to do that?"

Ian looked at her as though she had grown a second head.  "No, I do not.  I want to stay with Sam."  He looked down at Sam.  "If she will have me."

The ample woman laughed and stood up from her invisible chaise.  The moving scenes had changed into a city scene with people in a park and the squirrels stealing food from picnicker's lunch bags, trees looked stately even among the tall concrete and glass buildings.  She approached Ian who stayed perfectly still.  Nature reached out her heavy-set hands with beautiful fingers and traced a pattern on his visible bare chest.  He did not flinch from her touch.

"Each Incarnation, when they are first formally introduced to a mortal, leave what could be considered a "badge of honor", with Sam, her's are unusual, but they are the platinum streaks.  Yours," she met his look, "will be tattoos that remain in one place but will change.  Mine is a tree, it will grow, leaf and in the autumn the leaves will fall.  In the spring, it will bud, leaf and flower.  Your days will be reflected with the tattoo, calm days the tree may act as though it has a calm breeze rustling the branches, stormy days the tree will whip back and forth."  She shook her head, "there will be no pain, but you will know it's there and cannot be removed."

"I have a question", Ian blurted.  He'd been holding his question, afraid he would forget.  The look on Mother Nature's face at being interrupted almost made him wish he had forgotten it. 

"What is it then?" She was getting bored and wanted leave and work on another project.  She knew when she was done Time would pop in, give not only the ground rules, but a heavy lecture and she did not want to be around for _that._

"You referred to Samsara as 'my lady', why?"  He squeezed Sam's hand when he saw an indescribable appearance settle upon Gaia's features.  He observed her mentally going over their conversation, discovering where she made her slip of the tongue.  He felt his throat go dry.

Her eyes were harder than diamond and she pulled herself up to full size, radiating an incredible amount of power.  She was more formidable than Irons on a bad month.  "I suggest you forget what you think you heard."  She slipped, her mental voice changed slightly, as though speaking to someone of a lower class, someone mentally challenged.  "This is nothing that concerns _you_."

Ian practically shrank behind Sam.  If this was intimidation, it was working.  He willed himself to be anywhere but in front of her.

"That is an intolerable answer, as well as a totally deplorable tone of voice.  I expect a full, sincere apology or I will put you in charge of _only_ pollinating tomatoes."  Sam's voice was soft but her direct tone carried.  Her eyes were open, bright and clear.

"Samsara?" Nature met Sam's eyes which held no amusement.

"I know, I'm supposed to be asleep while you have your little one-on one with Ian, like you're more powerful than I."  She wiggled back into Ian, turned and looked at his chest.  "Hey Handsome, nice tree you got there."  She jockeyed her position so she could run her fingers over it; it also put her on her back looking up at Ian.

"I know, I'm supposed to be asleep while you have your little one-on one with Ian, like you're more powerful than I."  She wiggled back into Ian, turned and looked at his chest.  "Hey Handsome, nice tree you got there."  She jockeyed her position so she could run her fingers over it; it also put her on her back looking up at Ian.

Her touch stoked the fire which burned for her.  He bent down and stopped a half an inch away, "Do I have permission to kiss the Incarnation's 'Lady'?

Sam flicked her eyes over to Gaia who had gone quite white.  "I'm sorry. I..." 

"Will you answer my question now?  And, may I kiss your Lady?"  He asked just to see her respond.

""She is our 'Lady'; more powerful in _many _aspects than the BladeWielder you have consider a Lady."  We as Incarnations are her servants; it really is up to her as to whether or not you may kiss her.  I am so sorry for my reactions, will you please forgive me?"  She was almost wringing her hands, peering at Ian hopefully.

"I forgive you, will you give Sam and I a few moments alone?"  He nuzzled Sam's neck, reveling just being with her.

"Yes, but I do have important information regarding the time period, dos and don'ts," she interjected.

"Gotcha Ma, call you back in after a few minutes."  Sam's voice was like a balm.  Nature smiled, she was still 'Ma' to Sam and she was reassured.  Bobbing her head, she slipped into the hall.

Ian studied the beauty he was leaning over.  Her luminous lavender eyes sparkled and her full lips just begged to be kissed.  "She said it was up to you about being kissed." 

Sam gave him a teasing smile, "Do you feel lucky?"  She asked in her best Clint Eastwood voice.

To hell with games he thought, slipping one arm under her body, the other under her shoulder and back of the neck so he could cradle her head.  He started with light kisses from the opening of the pajama shirt, just above the breast bone, leaving feathery kisses on every bit of bare skin he could find.  Continuing up her neck and delicate throat, all over her face with her unable to catch him with her lips, he was going to continue until he heard her faint request.

"Do you think you could pause long enough and give me a real kiss, one that comes straight from your heart; one you really mean." Her eyes were on him steadily, and her arms found their way around his neck. "Do you think you could pause long enough and give me a real kiss, one that comes straight from your heart; one you really mean." Her eyes were on him steadily, and her arms found their way around his neck.

When he drew away to observe her face, it suddenly hit him that for all that he'd been through, he was falling in love with her.  Not because she saved him.  There was something more to the trust that she placed in him and more to the way she looked at him.  She'd given him a piece of her heart, without fanfare, but with undying trust and no expectation of it being returned.  As this comprehension seeped through his consciousness, he gathered her tenderly into his arms.

He lightly kissed the corners of her lips.  Her lips were soft and as subtle as fresh rose petals.  He began to kiss her and suggestions/memories came into play from where and when he could not remember; he was to lightly have his mouth open and touch her tongue.  He didn't think anything would happen and then her tongue met his and it was like an electrical stream flowed between the two of them.  He was disappointed that they couldn't share their experiences like before. 

Sam caressed his cheek as he reluctantly drew back.  Her eyes searched his and she saw his disappointment. 

"Not all our kisses or physical interactions are going to be like what you first experienced on the beach.  That was for a reason, and when we achieve the mutual sensation level, we are creating a great deal of power.  Power needs to be directed, or innocent lives could be lost."  Sam ran her finger along the soft skin just above his beard line, making him smile in spite of himself.  "Besides, I can't guarantee that you will experience that with any other lovers you're going to have." 

"I'm not going to have any other lovers, only you."  He looked down, "if you will have me?" 

Sam shook her head, "You're spoken for Ian.  I will not come between you and your Lady."  She felt like her heart was in a vise, an unforgiving pain. 

They turned simultaneously to the knock on the door.  Mother Nature had a chagrined expression. 

"I'm sorry, Samsara, but I couldn't help but overhear."  She edged into the room.  "The Others and I believe you and young Ian have a right to know.  That _is_ part of the reason of this trip." 

Sam rolled her eyes, Ian turned onto his side to see the velvet skinned woman better.  Sam puffed up the pillow behind her. 

"Okay, spill the beans."  Her patience was running low and her hunger was rearing its ugly head. 

There was an implosion and a man wearing a 1940's bearcat coat, ratty coonskin cap, belly-dancer see-through pants and belled anklets with Norwegian clogs.  His coat fell open as he turned to face Sam and his t-shirt read "Imagine Whirled Peas". 

"There you are!  He said, oblivious to the tension in the room.  "I have some very important…" 

"Pssst" Nature hissed at Time, who looked at her surprised. 

"Oh, you still here, fancy that.  Now…"  He started again and suddenly he discovered he had no voice, he turned and glared at Gaia. 

"I was just getting ready to tell them."  She widened her eyes, pointed to her wrist, "the Truth." 

Time's face went white and he looked over at Sam and Ian who had become even more interested. 

"You seem to know, tell us Tick-Tock Man!" demanded Sam.  Her hand had found Ian's arm, she wasn't sure if the news was bad or good. 

Time started to point as his throat when the female Incarnation nodded.  She received a glare for her 'reward'.

"Um," he cleared his throat, "we, All the Incarnations and I, know that Ian," he half gestured to Ian, "is not the _True_ Witchblade "Protector/Guardian".  His presence defeats the purpose."  Time holds his hand up, palm out toward Ian, "No offense, but a warrior guarding a warrior is a waste.  The True "Protector" will be able to protect himself and guard the Bearer's back.  But in reality, the Guardian is the person who determines Evil's path, the when, where, and how and most importantly how to take it out without involving or losing innocents.  It is when the Witchblade Bearer takes the wrong "Guardian" or in Joan of Arc's case, no 'human Guardian', does the Blade abandon the Bearer.  If you continue and insist on being Ms Pezzini's "Guardian, you sign her death warrant and possibly yours.  More than likely, the Blade will make sure you live, so you will know that you were responsible for the Bearer's Death." 

"That's enough, I'm getting a feeling you are telling fairy tales.  Just tell us the Itinerary and…" Sam's voice trailed as she watched Tick-Tock keep his eyes on Ian, who hadn't spoken. 

His gaze held Ian who looked like he'd been pole axed.  Time walked to the edge of the bed. 

"Ian," he waited until he saw a ragged soul, slowly on the mend, now lost, its only tether was to a light in the darkness.  "You do have a very important purpose," Time bit his lip. 

Ian felt as though he'd been kicked in the teeth.  His entire life had been structured to protect the BladeWielder, but Thing One, as Sam had introduced him was correct and he had never questioned Irons.  It _was_ foolish for a warrior to protect a warrior.  He knew he had been used, a guinea pig, nothing more than a tool and not even human. 

For the first time he was able to think clearly.  He'd never been treated like a human being, with even the minimum of rights.  As Ian reflected on how Irons doted on his acquisitions, his fury grew. 

Slowly he became aware of a cool hand on his cheek, blinking, he saw the violet luminous eyes of his Lady.  Not Sara.  Sam.  She was the first person to see him as a man.  She understood his obligations and would not obstruct the path he thought was correct.  He'd never had a friend.  Never knew anyone like her that was so giving, she expected nothing.  He paused mid-thought, no she did expect something but not for her, it was more of a hope than an expectation, his happiness. 

Ian wasn't sure how he'd passed through the anger, but he knew he reconciled the rage with Sam's help regarding his abysmal treatment by Irons.  He only remembered a couple of phrases Sam had whispered in his ear. "I'll stand in front of you to take the slings and arrows, I will pull you when you hesitate, I will push you to get you started, I will stand beside you to give you strength and support and I give you my love so that you might fly and touch your dreams." 

Between Time and Nature, Ian understood that Sara was not his 'Lady', but he would still "stand guard" until the proper "protector" was located.  He would also have a hand in the individual's training, and that gave him a sense of passing the torch, which made him feel better. 

Time stood rubbing his hands, looking exhausted.  He had enough strength left to "download" the information into Sam.  The info was needed for helping Ian, now 'Chris' in this timeline have a glimpse of his past, in doing so, hopefully spark some memories that Irons may have missed when 'reprogramming' Ian.  Ian would also understand the person he would be impersonating.  

Nature had to check on one of her eruptions and left without warning.  _Just like her_, fumed Time.  Making time pockets for strong and negative emotions zapped the strength from him.  Luckily, Sam was able to maneuver and absorb the worst, leaving Ian with a vague memory.  Nottingham's psyche was going to be put through more cynicism, gloom, loss and pessimism than 100 sane people should bear over a lifetime.  Evil had somehow gotten into the mix, so when Ian took the time to go through exactly what happened, it was very possible he might have a psychotic break or a brain embolism.  

Their cover story was simple.  Ian would be known as Chris, a shortened form of his middle name.  They had met during the Vietnam War.  He'd met Sam overseas, where she was a Doctor at one of the MASH units, which was closer to the "front" than it was supposed to be.  Her orders said Dr. Sam Clark, so she was up close and personal with a number of the wounded.  He'd been a SEAL, took some shrapnel while trying to save a downed buddy.  They both made it back, the buddy got a ticket back to the States and she stitched 'Chris' up just to go and fight again.  Like every red blooded male, he wanted to know if she was free after the war. She'd made some remark about helping old people who didn't shoot back.  He went looking for her when the war was over and found her helping the really young ones who couldn't even hold a gun.  When he accused her of giving him a false lead, she just shook her head and apologized, telling him it was still to close to Death for her taste.  He was honorably discharged and going to Cal-Tech on GI bill.  Newly-weds, they were starting a new life after a meaningless war.

Their cover story was simple.  Ian would be known as Chris, a shortened form of his middle name.  They had met during the Vietnam War.  He'd met Sam overseas, where she was a Doctor at one of the MASH units, which was closer to the "front" than it was supposed to be.  Her orders said Dr. Sam Clark, so she was up close and personal with a number of the wounded.  He'd been a SEAL, took some shrapnel while trying to save a downed buddy.  They both made it back, the buddy got a ticket back to the States and she stitched 'Chris' up just to go and fight again.  Like every red blooded male, he wanted to know if she was free after the war. She'd made some remark about helping old people who didn't shoot back.  He went looking for her when the war was over and found her helping the really young ones who couldn't even hold a gun.  When he accused her of giving him a false lead, she just shook her head and apologized, telling him it was still to close to Death for her taste.  He was honorably discharged and going to Cal-Tech on GI bill.  Newly-weds, they were starting a new life after a meaningless war. 

They would be staying only "two days", in reality it would be a day in one year and a day in another year.  After that, Ian and Sam would have a brief time pocket so Ian could grasp and understand all the information he'd acquired, she'd monitor his status and act as a filter when necessary.  All their clothes, money and identification were in the two suitcases.  The house was "special" They could bring food or other items in, except people.  Only they could come and go as they pleased.  Time peered at Sam and then looked at Ian, almost sorrowfully.  "There is another bathroom downstairs, but it only has a shower."  Time barely felt the words pass his lips when Sam whooped, springing free from Ian's grip.  Her feet barely hit the floor as she bounded out of bed, startling Ian. 

Ian caught a glimpse of her grabbing a towel and robe before dashing into the bathroom.  Within thirty seconds the tub was filling with water, and the two males were transfixed outside the door.

"I don't understand," Ian gestured at the door. 

Time grimaced, "She was at a monastery for ten years without hot water."  He shook his head, "I suppose I can do one more little time pocket, but," he glared at Ian severely, "don't tell her I did." 

Ian shook his head, "Not a word." 

Time pushed his sleeves up looked around as if he were forgetting something, then popped out of sight. 

The acoustics of the bathroom carried Sam's happy humming.  Ian smiled, and he realized that it felt good and he definitely had something to smile about.  While Sam enjoyed her bath, he decided to look through the suitcases.  They were both large and a little worn, gray Samsonites.  He was ready to jimmy the lock when he noticed a key on the night-stand.  Unlocking the suitcase, he flicked open the latches.  The acoustics of the bathroom carried Sam's happy humming.  Ian smiled, and he realized that it felt good and he definitely had something to smile about.  While Sam enjoyed her bath, he decided to look through the suitcases.  They were both large and a little worn, gray Samsonites.  He was ready to jimmy the lock when he noticed a key on the night-stand.  Unlocking the suitcase, he flicked open the latches. 

                                                                        **********

Gabe Bowman just finished cleaning his bathroom.  He felt a sense of satisfaction as he placed the cleaning solutions and wipes in the closet next to his bathroom.  He would have been embarrassed if anyone had caught him in the act of cleaning, but truth be told, he liked having a clean bathroom and kitchen.  No one yet had noticed he dated all his "take out" containers in his refrigerator, but the days of having to scavenge were over.  He'd invested in a compact washer and dryer so he never had to leave his place to wash and wait to dry his clothes.  He could cruise cyberspace while his towels were treated to 'springtime freshness'.   The phone ringing from the depth of his shop caught his attention, he headed to an extension, however, when he heard his contact in China yelling over the answering machine, he hurried to the extension picked up and punched in the override code.

"Whoa, Yuan.  I'm here.  Slow down, what's wrong?"  He'd never heard his imperturbable friend so upset.  He heard his old companion take a deep breath. 

"I went down to get the proper papers so I could bring it to the United States.  The woman called somebody," he paused, "it didn't feel right, so I left and hid it."  He took another breath, closing his eyes against the memory of uniformed officials starting to pursue him out of the offices as he ducked through buildings and squalid alleys, through one of his uncle's warehouse, where he found a safe and dry place to hide his treasure.  He knew it would be safe; things he had secreted since he was a small boy had remained intact and undamaged for many years.

"Yuan, you okay man!" Gabe practically yelled.  He was worried about his friend, yes he wanted the sword, but his friend was priceless.  _I'd fly to __China__ if it would help Yuan, _he resolutely said under his breath.

"I'm fine.  Gabriel, really."  Yuan's voice was calm.  After he had reached the safety of his home, he'd called his favorite aunt.  She was the secretary to one of _the_ high-ranking officials and she'd spoken on behalf of her nephew.  The powerful Authority was intrigued with her nephew's predicament and spoke to him directly. 

"I have a meeting with a prominent Government attaché and he has given me his word that he knows someone very," he paused searching for a word, "'special'.  The General explained _He_ and his wife would be accompanying someone most Revered to the airport."  Excitement charged his voice, "And I get to meet the Revered One!" 

Relief leeched all the strength from Gabe's body, forcing him to lean against the wall.  His imagination had taken flight and foreseen his friend being dragged from his home, tortured and maimed. 

"Wow, I am so glad you're okay, and that thing with the 'Revered One', sounds cool.  Think the 'Revered One' would give you an autograph?" He added the question to get a rise out of Yuan, and it worked. 

"Gabe, the Revered One is not like a rock star!  You insult someone who is very important to our culture, and in this case to the world!" Yuan bristled.

"Sorry Yuan, just yanking your chain. What do you mean important to the world.  I thought whatever the U.S. had, we shared and whatever China had was theirs." 

Absentmindedly, Gabriel scratched his head and slid to the floor and sat cross legged.  He'd learned getting into political and metaphysical belief conversations had a tendency to be long.  He looked across the hallway to his kitchen, and made a note to self to replace this telephone with a mobile extension. 

"That is usually the case, but this person, unlike the Dali Lama, has the approval of the Chinese government, and a few other governments that won't be named."  Yuan was nodding.  He recognized the fact his phone was bugged, but he didn't expect to live forever.  "I'm not exactly sure when the meeting will be.  The Holy One will be delivered by a monastery, from what I understand the 'Venerate Dignitary' breeches all usual, consider _normal,_ venues of protocol.  My aunt told me the wife of attaché is hoping to be blessed, so she might bear a child.  They've tried many years." 

"So this person works miracles, too?"  Then he might be able to get the sword to the states.  Where should I send my donation?"  His tone started out light-hearted, but he was serious about the donation.  Just saving his buddy's neck would be great; the sword would be the icing. 

"I don't know.  But I expect it will be the Revered One who will deliver the sword."  Yuan paused.  "It is time for me to go.  I will try and call you when the Revered One has the sword. Good Night Gabe."

There was a click before Gabe could verify that Yuan had said the 'Revered One will deliver the sword'; or for him to say good night.  He gazed over the untidy heaps of papers and stacked boxes knowing everything was meticulously categorized on his computer.  Some of the more exotic and fragile items he had in display cases.  His warehouse _was_ his store room.  He knew where every Austrian Crystal amulet to Zulu spear was boxed. 

Mystic paraphernalia was carefully stored to avoid any and hopefully all possible interactions that would act as a catalyst or disturb the fabrics of any realms.  He knew a number of people who had "gifts"; some were witches, practicing Wiccans and some who had been drawn to his place because something was "wrong".  He'd always been a good judge of people and he saw relief in their eyes when he was willing to rearrange to avoid disaster.  In time, he had acquired customers.  More importantly, he had made friends.

As he looked over his shop, he knew there was no way for him to have it spotless before Yuan's Revered person arrived.  A plan formed in his head.  He grabbed his keys and headed out to pick up a few things.  At first, he though scrubbing bubbles was the third best invention after pizza and the laptop, but now it had a competitor.  Pledge, Windex Wipes along with the Wipe the Floor and Toss were squeezing the bubbles out of their special nitch.  Hopefully, by the time the Yoda-person arrived, most of the shop would smell clean and sparkle.  The floor would actually look clean.  Humming, he closed the door behind him and made sure it was locked before heading to the store. 

*********

Sara's day at work had been a blur.  They'd been called to a homicide, but by thetime Vickie got done with the preliminary, it was a solid suicide.  Sara had called it at the scene, but no one seemed to listen.  She felt like shaking someone, especially Jake.  _There was NO weapon, No motive and No opportunity for any of the possible suspects,_ she coldly stated to the blond rookie.  She'd noticed the glances between Danny and Jake, wondering if she was PMSing.  She wanted to shout at the two of them, but it would have just dug her hole deeper.

A certified letter arrived for her, at the precinct, which she signed in front of an impromptu audience. 

"Everyone has to know everybody's business," Danny reminded her, "it's carved in stone somewhere."  There was a smile on his face as he tried to hide behind his cup of coffee.

"Well, what's it about?" piped Jake. 

Sara rolled her eyes at him as she opened the parchment thin paper and read it slowly, disbelief creeping over her features. 

"Jeez, Pez what's wrong?"  Danny's joking tone had vanished and his posture had changed.  If something was messing with his partner, they didn't know what they were in for, he thought. 

It took a couple of minutes, as Sara reread the notice a couple of times, the she passed it to Danny.  "Someone bought my building and will be doing renovations."  Disbelief was written over her face, with a tinge of sadness. 

"It say's here that they will be starting renovating the loft next to yours tomorrow, as well as the warehouse underneath your loft."  Danny read.  He looked up, "if it gets too loud, Castle Woo has a comfortable couch and a built in alarm clock called Una.  You're welcome to crash there until the barbarians have finished plundering your home." 

Sara gave him a wan smile, "I won't leave without a fight." Sighing heavily, "I wonder what the rent hike is going to be."

Both Danny and Jake grimaced.  They knew the real estate market in New York and did not envy Sara's predicament. 

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," remarked Danny.

Sara looked at him, "What's that, famous Woo Wisdom?"

"No, Woo Wisdom says, for problems see Haagen Daz.  Little problem, use a pint, big problem, make gallon of many flavors use chocolate syrup, whipped cream, chopped nuts and cherries." 

Sara laughed, "And this helps the problems?"

Danny smiled, "It makes you do that," as he pointed to her smile, "which helps make the predicament a little easier to handle." He shrugged his shoulders and grinned at her.

She nodded, "Point taken, I might show up on your door step tomorrow night with some Haagen Daz." 

"Works for me.  Hey, I have to go pick up Una from ballet."  As he stood and grabbed his coat, "See you tomorrow.  Have a good night." 

"G'nite," Sara said to Danny's retreating back. 

As soon as the shift was over, she headed home.  She'd kept an eye out for Nottingham and hadn't even felt him around.  Yesterday, well, she could blow him off about not rubbing her nose in the fact she almost saw Una get killed.  But today, not even a shadow.  She hated to admit it to herself but she was getting a little worried about him.  She considered going out to the mansion, and then decided she wasn't that worried. 

She parked and locked up her Buell and headed up the steps, keys ready.  Opening her door had become a fluid movement, key in, turn, turn handle and push and she was inside.  Stashing her helmet on the rack where she hung her jacket, bolted her door, she started to walk into her kitchen area that opened into the entire apartment when she saw a shadowy figure apparently pursuing her books.  Stealthily she pulled her gun and aimed it at the cloaked figure. 

As she moved closer she heard him humming and sometimes singing the lyrics of Randy Newman's "Short People" song.  "Short people got nobody; short people got nobody to.  They got little baby legs And they stand so low You got to pick 'em up just to say hello they got little cars, That go beep, beep, beep, they got little voices that go peep, peep, peep," hummam, huma, hum, hum.  He flicked through pages of various books, many she had from her father.

She was stunned to see such a large hooded figure, singing a silly song going through her books.  It was too much. 

"If you want a book, go to the library."  She nodded at the door.  He started.  "NYPD, I have a gun so don't try anything." Something about him was different, she knew the Witchblade should be giving her information but it lay dormant on her arm. 

He turned slowly, it was then she noticed the scythe in his left hand and that his hands were only bones.  Sara began to believe she left her stomach downstairs as the hairs rose up the back of her neck, but not her bravado. 

Instead she watched the black robed individual pick up a book her father had read to her many times and as part of their night time routine they would each recite a line of one of Sara's favorite saying's from the book before going to bed. 

The dark clothed person with a deep raspy voice flipped to a worn section and started what for others would be an unconventional beginning. 

"Two things cannot be put in one place.  'Where you tend a rose my lad'…" 

               Sara's eyes filled with tears, gun forgotten, as she recited the second line with the man in black, 

               "'A thistle cannot grow.'" 

                              Sara looked uncertain as she rubbed the Witchblade, "Who are you, and what the Hell do you want with me?"  The challenge in her voice had disappeared.  Her eyes scrutinized the black hooded and cloaked individual, noting he was easily over 7 feet tall. 

The man in black glanced at the Witchblade and then at Sara.  "The Witchblade is primarily for battle.  Not concerned with matters of the heart or things similar that has passed.  For instance, your father's life force was too rich to languish and has been reborn.  His soul only had the sin of pride, not for himself, but of you. He was very proud of you.  That sin was easily cleansed and his path is clear and promising. 

"As for Hell, Evil, capital E Incarnate, resides in Hell, that's of whom you should be wary.  Evil Incarnate is smooth, polished, very refined and slippery as an eel."

"I am Death Incarnate, I am here to observe.  I have met another mortal female who has piqued my interest of things living.  To try and see things from a different perspective and experience," he looked down, "what living people do.  She has treated me more than _just_ an Incarnate." 

Sara noticed his voice took on amused and lighthearted quality when he spoke about the human woman. 

"In fact you weren't supposed to notice me, but I guess the Witchblade decided you should.  You will be seeing other odd Individuals, they will be Incarnations."  He peered down at her, out of his hood.  "You seem to be off balance.  Denying the fact that you are concerned for someone's welfare, perhaps I can help."

Sara wanted to say no but she knew lying wasn't an option, so she decided to just "run with it".

"I usually have this guy shadowing me."  She ran her hand over the Witchblade and holstered her gun.  "He thinks he's the Witchblade guardian and follows me everywhere, but he hasn't been around all day today and most of the day yesterday."

"Is his name Nottingham?"  Death's voice was so soft she barely heard it.

"Yes, oh my god is he?"  She raised her hand to her cheek; he seemed like someone who always seemed invincible.

"Dead? No. Lost, yes!  He and the Divine One got trapped in a time flux and are no longer in this time frame."

"Divine One?"  Sara's curiosity was in gear now. 

"Yes, Nottingham has been a prisoner since childhood.  I stood by his bed many times after the bloody whippings Irons inflicted on him as a child and as a man.  Nottingham has a strong will to live.  This trip, however, may kill him."

"If it could kill him, why did he go?"  Sara was sickened by what Irons had done to Nottingham, no wonder he had such a servitude manner.

"For Ian to be free of Irons, he has to know he had a life before Irons.  He had a mother who loved him.  Once Irons married her and was certain he had both under control, he had Ian's mother killed and kept Nottingham for himself.  Weren't you ever curious why Ian would refer to Irons as father but not have the Irons name?" 

Sara's sharp intake of breath answered his question.  He straightened his robes, "I must go, I just got word they have been located, in one piece and alive.  Good Night, Sara, may your dreams be as magical as the garden." There wasn't a sound or a disturbance when he disappeared. 

Sara's eye's filled with tears, "Thank you, hey next time knock?"  Yelling at the point where he'd been standing.  Still trying to grasp , explain what had just occurred.  She'd mashed a smile on her features, remembering how her dad tucked her in and somehow knowing his life-force was back in the world made her heart feel a little lighter.  She went over to the table where Death had left The SecretGarden.  She picked it up and set on the kitchen table.

Brewing a large cup of tea gave her time to make some cheese and crackers with sliced apples on the side, and then set up her sofa with a lamp, pillow, and blanket.  She crawled into her sweats before the tea was done.  Snagging the book, she made her way to her cozy nest.  After finishing her light dinner and a few chapters, she pulled the blanket tight flicked off the lamp and slept.


End file.
